Wake Up Sleeping
by Castaway Jane
Summary: A spate of brutal murders coincides with drastic changes in the lives of all involved in the case. Will solving their emotional problems prove to be more difficult than solving the crime itself?
1. Introduction

Wake Up Sleeping, by Castaway Jane.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to CBS and Viacom, I just borrowed them for a bit of escapism, please don't sue.

Authors Note: Dr Keller and some of the issues in this story were introduced in my first piece of fan fiction "Discrepancy Of Death" but this story has been 

written to stand alone. Dr Kate Delieb and David Goodman were characters in the episode " Today is the Last Day of the Rest of My Life", and I have 

paraphrased the episode in a couple of places. Lyrics that I've used in the piece are credited at the end. It's an epic so take a deep breath and jump in!

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Introduction

Steve unceremoniously dumped the plate of ribs in front of Jesse and slumped down into the chair between Amanda and his father.

"I can see profits taking a dive if that's what you call service with a smile!" Mark chuckled but Steve didn't seem amused.

"Considering I haven't slept in the past 24 hours" he croaked, eyes locked on his young friend "and you know where the kitchen is, I think you could've served yourself". Steve rolled his head, his neck cracking as he closed his eyes lightly.

Jesse wore a guilty look as he bit down on the sticky rib between his fingers.

"Nothing more on the Anderson case?" Amanda prodded gently.

A shake of the head and a faint groan were Steve's only response. 

"_Still_ no connection between Genie Anderson and the first victim?" Mark asked. Steve shook his head slowly and deliberately, hoping his father would let the matter drop. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of how hopeless this investigation was turning out to be. "The neighbours" Mark continued, oblivious to his son's growing frustration "they couldn't remember anymore details about what they heard?"

"No dad" Steve replied curtly "Nothing".

"What about Genie's parents, did they come up with anything? You and Cheryl went back there today didn't you?"

"We _did_, they _didn't_" was the almost cryptic reply, and it was enough to ward off more questions from Mark for the time being. Steve sighed as the four friends sat in silence. The peace was broken eventually by Jesse washing down the last rib with a mouth full of coke "Aah".

"I'm glad sir enjoyed the meal" Steve's voice was faint and strained. He rose, picking up the empty plate and glass, stretching his back and wincing. 

"Don't I get the desert menu?" Jesse asked in all seriousness.

He was met by three pair of glaring eyes. 

Steve lumbered towards the kitchen; Mark waited until he was out of earshot before addressing Amanda and Jesse. "It's been almost two weeks now and you know they haven't made any progress", his tone was that of concern, not criticism.

"And that first woman who was murdered, Valerie Whats-her-name" Jesse added

"Valerie Shome" Amanda reminded him.

"Valerie Shome" he continued "I remember hearing about her death on the news, I was calling my mom for her birthday when I saw it. That makes the case over three months old."

"Steve and Cheryl are doing their best, but they've got very little to go on" 

"That's right Amanda" Steve puffed as he approached the table "well, actually I'd say _'very little'_ is a bit generous. I think what we've got to go on is somewhere between infinitesimal and a big fat nothing. Considering the time that son-of-a" Steve stopped himself and took a deep breath, lowering his voice as he began again. "Considering the amount of time this guy takes with his victims, the drawn out events surrounding the actual murders"

"Rituals" Jesse interjected

"Yeah, the rituals he performed, he's got to be pretty damn smart to leave us with this little on him." Steve shook his head as he sat down again. He picked up the glass of water from the table and sipped slowly.

"If there's anything we can do" Mark offered

"Well, unless one of you has a witches cloak or ouija board under your bed? Better still, a crystal ball."

"Didn't that consultant give you any leads?" Amanda asked

"The occult guy? Oh he knew his stuff, years of research, leader in the field, but it doesn't really help us that much." Steve resigned himself to repeating the details to the eager audience. "Basically" he began "The idea of a voodoo doll, as far as I know, is that you stick a pin in it, the person gets a pain in the corresponding part of the body, Magic! But if you get in your car, drive to a persons home, jimmy the back door open, methodically dissect a doll and lay the pieces out in a row, _then_ dissect the human leaving all the bits laid out in a row, that's _not_ magic. It's homicide, and it's a very sick homicide at that."

"Ssh!" Jesse exclaimed as the last two customers sheepishly made their way towards the door. "So you don't believe in the occult?" he asked when the restaurant was empty.

"My beliefs aren't the question here" Steve closed his eyes and leant forward, elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "I know that those two women weren't killed by magic. _Magic_ wouldn't need to force the doors to get into their homes."

"Something will come up" Mark tried to assure him "it always does."

"Better be soon" Steve mumbled.

Amanda checked her watch "I should be going"

"Me too" Jesse added, throwing his napkin on the table.

"Aren't you forgetting something Jess?" Steve asked, suddenly more alert. He handed Jesse a slip of paper.

"You don't expect me to pay the bill at my own place!"

Steve smiled "And I expect a tip."

Jesse rummaged in his pocket.

Steve laughed "Keep it" he tossed a set of keys at Jesse "I'll let you lock up instead".

With that, Mark, Steve and Amanda left Jesse sulking alone in the restaurant. 

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	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"The date must be going well" Jesse grinned eyeing the clock on the wall.

"It wasn't a date" Amanda corrected him casually.

"Oooh, raw nerve Dr Bently?" he teased "we wouldn't be jealous would we?"

Mark entered the living room carrying three mugs of coffee.

"Cheryl and Steve are colleagues, friends, no more" Amanda retorted "Isn't that right Mark?"

"Oh they are colleagues, that's true, and definitely friends"

Jesse and Mark smiled mischievously at each other as he discreetly declined to pass judgement on the _'no more' _part of Amanda's statement.

"It's a birthday meal that's all" Amanda glared at Jesse "Stop it! I am not jealous."

Jesse shrugged, "you're probably right, Steve in a new suit and tie, flowers, chocolates, best table in a fine restaurant. Friends"

Mark laughed "Well I think that what ever is going on between those two is none of our business. And I hope that they are having a nice, relaxing evening, lord knows they deserve it they way they've been working on this awful case".

Amanda tossed a thought around her mind for a moment "that was a _new_ suit?"

Jesse smirked.

"I'm _not_ jealous"

"Are too"

"Am not!"

Mark rolled his eyes.

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Steve avoided eye contact with the forensic officers and uniformed police constables as he left the small white stucco house. The dusk had turned to darkness and the lights from the police vehicles threw coloured streaks across the walls behind him. Despite the number of people bustling around the scene, there was barely a sound to be heard as he crossed the street to where his car was parked. He walked directly to the passenger side door.

Cheryl sat with her feet on the sidewalk, head between her knees and hands locked behind her head. She wore a grey pinstriped silk suit. The trousers hung casually over the black leather boots she was staring at intently. Steve crouched in front of her and placed his hand gently on her upper arm, rubbing his thumb soothingly across her shoulder. Cheryl barely seemed to notice him.

"Here" Steve offered her a sparkling white pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket, and dipped his head to try and make eye contact. She took the hanky and sniffed.

"Thanks, I'll be back inside in a moment"

"No need, we're just about done"

"But" she began to protest

"No need" Steve repeated "forensics and photographers are in there, we've seen all we need to for now." He swiftly brushed a tear from her cheek "guess this means dinner is off?"

She smiled weakly "yeah, happy birthday to me."

"Hey mister" the voice called from over Steve's shoulder.

"Nothing here to interest you, just keep walking." Steve dished out the standard polite line though the impatience was evident in his voice.

"Oh, OK. I just wondered, you got the time?"

"Eleven-twenty" Cheryl replied curtly, glancing down at the watch on her slender wrist. The man grunted his thanks and headed back the same way he'd appeared from.

"I'll drive you home" Steve stated as he got up and walked around to the driver's side.

"You sure we're finished here?" Cheryl asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Look at it, it's a circus over there" he nodded towards the lights flashing their colours across the building. "We can come back in the morning, check the rest of the place out."

Cheryl closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the rest as they pulled away from the roadside.

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Steve's dark blue suit clashed hideously with the colour scheme in Cheryl's living room. His jacket and tie were slung over the arm of the sofa and he'd undone the top button on his shirt. One of his hands circled the other wrist and he slowly flexed his fingers then pulled them down to form a fist. He continued to repeat the action as he spoke loudly enough for Cheryl to hear him in the bathroom.

"Guess you think I'm a cheap date?" There was no reply. "You can call the restaurant, I really did make a reservation."

Cheryl appeared in the doorway, a long cotton dressing gown hanging open over sweat pants and a vest. "Well if you didn't book a table I sure hope that wasn't your way of getting out of an embarrassing social situation." There was an awkward silence. "More coffee?" she asked. 

"I'm fine" Steve replied, tentatively lifting the half-filled cup to his lips. He looked across to the kitchen, Cheryl stood with her back to him. 

She didn't hear anything through her gentle sobs but she sensed Steve moving towards her from across the room. She could feel his warm presence behind her and without looking she turned and buried her head into his shoulder. Her hands were locked between his firm body and her face as he wrapped his arms around her back. Steve pulled her closer as her sobs grew louder, cradling the back of her head with one hand and resting his check atop her head.

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Mark glanced at the door and then looked at his watch '1:05'. He smiled to himself and switched off the light as he made his way upstairs to bed.

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Steve opened half an eye. Blearily he peered down at Cheryl who was sound asleep on the sofa beside him, her head resting on a cushion in his lap. Awkwardly he tried to ease himself up without disturbing her but as he moved she stirred.

"What time is it?"

"Half two, just lie there, I'll get a blanket"

"No it's OK" she pushed herself wearily into a sitting position. 

Steve stretched and groaned as he stood in the middle of the room.

Cheryl rose from the sofa and casually caught hold of Steve's fingers as she stumbled sleepily past him. He didn't move and Cheryl jolted to a stop when they both reached arms length. She turned to face him, a puzzled smile on her face.

"C'mon, I've got a perfectly good bed next door." She tugged at his fingers but Steve didn't move. Seeing the uncertainty in his eyes she raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry Sloan, I promise to behave."

Steve shook his head in embarrassment and followed obediently as she led him into the bedroom.

The room was darkened except for a single beam which cut through the gap in the curtains from the street light outside. Cheryl flicked on the bedside lamp, pulled back the covers on the high double bed and tossed her dressing gown onto a small wooden chair by the window. Steve unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it from his shoulders and letting it drop from his wrists. He kicked off his shoes, then sitting on the edge of the bed pulled his socks off as Cheryl slid between the sheets and clicked off the light. Removing his trousers he joined her under the covers, lying awkwardly beside her, trying to maintain a respectable distance. He looked across at his partner through heavy-lidded eyes; her brow was still furrowed as she faced the window, and Steve was sure she was already asleep. There was a chill in the night air, he shuffled a little closer and lay there just watching her again for a moment, then pulled the covers further up her body.

Cheryl felt Steve's hand brush against her bare arm as he drew the sheets up around her shoulders. Reaching behind herself she fumbled for his arm and slid her soft palm down until she found his fingers and intertwined them with her own. Steve felt his forearm press against her warm stomach as she wrapped both of their arms tightly around her body. He edged closer again and held her tightly as she raised her knees and curled up into a ball. His body felt warm and strong behind her and the frown gradually slipped from her face as she acknowledged the secure feeling welling within her. Steve's chest rose and fell gently and Cheryl felt his breath, soft and rhythmic on the back of her neck. She was almost asleep as he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered "Happy Birthday."

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"You look terrible!" Jesse exclaimed as he strode into the doctor's lounge with Mark not far behind him. Steve didn't retort, just wearily tossed a folder onto the table, which Mark began to flick through. "So how was the date?" Jesse continued, grinning expectantly as he pulled up a chair.

"There was no date"

"Morning" Amanda chirped as she came through the door. She looked Steve up and down suspiciously "You look awful."

"I didn't get much sleep last night" he explained without thinking how Jesse would interpret that information. Amanda tried to hide her blush.

"Thought you said there was no date" Jesse cackled, the juvenile grin spreading from ear to ear now.

"I didn't get much sleep because of that" Steve nodded towards the folder that his father was flicking through.

"Another 'voodoo' murder" Mark stated solemnly.

"What happened?" Amanda gasped.

"I was on my way to pick up Cheryl when the call came in. I'm surprised you guys didn't hear it on the news, it was a media circus as usual. So basically instead of a pleasant evening out we were at the crime scene 'til I don't know what time then I drove Cheryl home."

"Nice suit" Jesse remarked after a slight pause.

Steve looked down at the dark blue trousers and crumpled jacket, knowing full well what his friend was implying.

"Yes Jess" he snapped "I drove Cheryl home, we were both pretty exhausted so I crashed there and haven't had a chance to go home and change yet."

Jesse held up his palms in mock defence "OK, I'm sorry, just honing my detective skills."

"So any clues this time?" Amanda asked.

Steve shook his head and began to wring his hands. "Pretty much the same MO as before. He waited 'til dusk, forced entry through the back door. All the action took place in the kitchen, same sort of rituals, certain body parts laid out in a contrived manner."

Amanda shook her head "poor woman, what do you know about her, who was she?"

"Katriona Bennet" he paused and looked up at his father. Mark nodded his understanding and Steve continued "Katriona Bennet and Hazel Bennet"

"Two women in one house. Sisters?" Jesse asked.

Steve shook his head and slouched forward over the table letting his fists land with a dull thud. "Katriona was the mother, 24 years old"

Jesse and Amanda shuddered with the gradual realisation of how young that made the second victim.

"Hazel was only three, neighbours heard her scream, thought it was just the kid throwing a tantrum."

"Who alerted the police?" Mark asked solemnly.

"A friend. It seems Katriona managed to get to a phone during the attack, pressed last number redial. It was a friend's house but there was nobody home, answering machine picked straight up and recorded a few seconds of muffled sounds. The friend got home about an hour later, wasn't sure what to make of the message at first. She recognised the phone number as Katriona's, tried to call her back but there was no reply. She waited a while, called again then started to worry. She called the station but not answering the phone isn't a crime, so in the end she drove over there herself. There was less than two hours between the call being placed and the bodies being found."

"Even though he knew she'd placed a call he still went through the rituals?" Amanda asked sceptically.

"I know, pretty sure of himself or he just didn't care about getting caught. You know how long it would take to go through with the mutilation, he had to be cutting it fine. When our guys saw the kitchen they were sure he had to still be on the premises or at least in the area."

"But nothing?"

Steve shook his head "We had road blocks up within minutes, all the gardens and out buildings checked but nothing. And nothing in the house so far, no prints or fibres. Medical Examiner thinks we may get some skin samples from under the mothers nails buy if this guy isn't on the DNA register it doesn't help catch him."

"No link with the other victims?" Mark asked running a finger across his lips.

"Nothing I can see." Steve paused, going over the information stored in his mind. Addressing nobody in particular he began talking again. "Valerie Shome was a forty-three year old librarian, happily married. Her husband discovered her after returning home from a business trip. Genie Anderson was a 19-year-old collage student discovered by her roommate. Now we have a single mother living on the other side of town."

"You still don't suspect Valerie Shome's husband then?" Jesse asked

"No, can't say I do. I know most homicides are family affairs but in Valerie's case he had a watertight alibi and little motive. And these weren't frenzied killings, in terms of being in the heat of the moment, and then there's the ph…" he paused "there's too much that doesn't fit the domestic violence theory. On top of that we found no relationship to Genie Anderson and I doubt we'll find he had any connection with Katriona Bennet either."

Mark slowly turned the pages in the folder "you began to say something then stopped" he looked at Steve. There was no reply "you said _'and then there's the…_', then there's the what?"

Steve pushed himself up and ambled to the door, closing it firmly and resting his back against it. His audience waited in silence. "The photo's" Steve began. He sighed deeply. "A case like this, the press are all over it and before you know what's happening the public know more than you do. It leaves the field wide open for hoaxes, people claiming to be the 'voodoo killer', wasting your time or worse still pulling stupid stunts, scaring some poor girl half to death hoping for fifteen minutes of fame. When we found Valerie Shome, we found the voodoo doll next to her body, laid out in the same way as she was. The press had a field day with it, heck they're still using it. What they don't know about, what only a handful of us know is that there were photos too."

Jesse grimaced "What kind of photos?" he asked, not altogether sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

"A series of Polaroid's, from what we can gather the guy goes in there with the doll intact. Then he starts to dissect the doll, documenting each stage of the process with a Polaroid camera. The theory we are going with at the moment is that he's showing the victim what will happen to them, so he does the doll first, then the person."

Jesse gulped, his morbid fascination again getting the better of him. "And there are photos of the victim too?"

"No, we figure that if he takes pictures of the real deal, which I'd say is highly probable, then he keeps those as his souvenirs."

"How sick can a guy be?" Jesse spat

"Tell me about it, I've been trying to get inside this guy's head for too long now, it's driving me crazy. In some ways I wish they'd let the feds take total control. Their guys are more used to profiling monsters like this than we are. Working alongside them isn't a bundle of fun, all the cross-department lines crap on top of the gore's getting pretty hard to take I can tell you. Give me a straight up honest-to-goodness gang shoot out and I'll be a happy man right now."

Mark ran a hand through his hair "one of his victims was a child this time, does that give us any more insight."

"I don't think so" Steve answered before anyone else had the chance to hypothesise. "I don't think he knew about the kid, there was only one doll, found next to the mother and he didn't really…"

Nobody probed any further but Steve continued after a short while "the three adult victims so far were severely mutilated" he stated clinically "but the child was only partially…you know. Maybe he ran out of time, did get scared about being caught but I don't think so. I think he started the job but couldn't finish. It was the mother he was after, not the girl."

"So you're tying to say he is actually playing by some rules here?" Amanda raised her eyebrows in disbelief. It sounded to her as though Steve was rationalising what this monster had done.

Steve shrugged "His rules I guess, in his warped mind it's OK to let the girl watch her mother be killed then kill her, but the rest of the ritual was too much for him to go through with."

"These dolls?" Mark asked "are they all the same or are they in the image of their victim so to speak?"

"They're '_personalised'_ at some crude level, size, hair colour, and some sort of trinket."

"Like what?"

Steve blew a long shallow breath though his lips and sat down on the couch, letting his head flop backwards as he did so. He rubbed his eyes "Valerie Shome's had a dime stitched inside it. At the time we thought it was something to do with greed, you know, he was implying she was centred on money but the other's were just as random."

"It can't be totally random" Amanda disagreed "maybe it shows he had previous knowledge of the victims, knew what type of people they were."

"But Valerie wasn't greedy, quite the opposite infact. She used to help out at a charity shop in her spare time."

"What about the others?" Jesse prompted.

"Genie Anderson's doll had a bottle top with it. Last night it was a map pinned to the back of the doll."

"Map?" Mark asked.

Steve nodded "A little scrap of paper with a couple of roads junctions and arrows on it."

"Could it be showing you where…." Steve cut Amanda off before she could finish.

"It's got no labels, I doubt it means a thing", then on Mark's expression "but we've got someone on it all the same."

Steve grimaced as he began to flex his fingers, switching his attention between hands at regular intervals. Jesse stood up and headed for the door "I'm off now guys", he glanced towards Steve "whoa, hope that's not repetitive strain injury from all those reports you do, I can take a look if you like, be your star witness when you sue the police department." Steve smiled wryly and his father chuckled.

"Just a bit stiff" he assured his friend "but I'll keep that offer in mind".

Jesse screwed his face up "well if your hand shrivels up and drops don't say I didn't try!" and with that he left. Amanda and Mark beamed broadly at his comment; Steve's smile however masked the seeds of a growing concern.

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	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cheryl shuffled through the assorted items in the 'IN' tray on Steve's desk. Her attention was piqued when she came to the padded envelope. The crudely written address began "_the voodoo detectives_" and was followed by the precinct number and address. Taking a tissue from her pocket she lifted up the envelope, tore through the top with her pen and peered inside. She turned the package upside down, allowing it to spill it's contents onto Steve's cluttered desk. Carefully using the end of the pen she flipped each of the three photos over in turn.

Ten minutes later Chief Masters was holding the same three photos in gloved hands. The envelope lay in a plastic evidence bag on his desk as Steve and Cheryl sat opposite him.

"Could be a hoax" he started. Steve and Cheryl shot unbelieving looks at each other. "I know" Masters continued "nobody was meant to know about the photos. But it's possible, I mean all it takes is for a bit of loose talk or one of those journalists having more brains than we gave them credit for."

Cheryl moved uncomfortably in her chair. "You really believe that?" she finally barked.

Masters dropped the photos on top of the plastic bag. "No. No I don't." He removed a glove and ran a hand across his brow.

"The dolls are too much of a match" Steve observed. "Sure the press knew dolls were involved but they never got that much detail. They're exactly the same style as the others."

"OK next question" Cheryl asked "Why us? There's two other guys on this case, and the feds, why no photos for them?" 

"I'll get Crowther and Boardman to check their mail now" Masters answered "I won't tell them what they're looking for," he added. "Only four people know about these photos, the three of us and the jerk who sent them. I'll get Len to take a look at them, for prints and stuff. But that's it. I don't want you telling anyone about this, not those guys" he signalled towards the detectives and FBI agents milling around in the office "and certainly no civilians. Understand?" Cheryl and Steve nodded, but Masters continued to glare directly at Steve. "That means the old man too Sloan"

"Fine" Steve replied with forced respect, offended by his boss' inference.

"OK, back to it" Masters chirped as Steve and Cheryl turned to leave his office.

Once they were outside Cheryl glanced nervously towards Steve "Well?" she asked, her tone slightly frosty.

"As he says, less people who know the better". He paused "You OK?"

"Sure" she answered, far too quickly for Steve's liking. Cheryl stormed towards the door and Steve followed a pace behind her. When they reached the car park he gently caught hold of her arm.

"Hey, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want a truthful answer. _Are you OK_?" he repeated.

"No I'm not _OK_" Cheryl barked, trying desperately to keep her voice down. "Some guy is butchering women, and then two nights ago he turned his hand to kids too. Now this creep is threatening us and we are nowhere near catching him. That bothers me Steve, in a whole lot of ways that bothers me!" Her tone was aggressive, and Steve couldn't help but feel hurt by her reaction to him.

"I'm sorry" he offered "I'm frustrated too, and this photo stuff doesn't sit easy with me either."

Cheryl shook her head "I've got stuff to do, see y'later" she snapped. Steve watched as she slammed the car door and sped out of the parking lot.

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The tall broad figure stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Heavy trees lining the gardens compounded the darkness, the only light a hazy beam from the street lamp above. The figure nervously crossed the road, glancing back to his car then over to the small single-story house. Climbing the steps slowly he wrapped sharply on the door and stood back.

Inside, the abrupt knock startled Cheryl as she sat curled in front of the television. She turned the volume down and skipped towards the entrance. Peering through the spy hole she screwed up her face a little when she couldn't quite make out the figure, then cautiously undid the latch. The door opened slightly and the man appeared from the shadows.

"Can I come in?" Steve asked gently.

Cheryl sighed then opened the door wider. Without speaking Steve walked in and took up a stance between the TV and the sofa. Cheryl side stepped him and switched the set off.

"So what's up?" she asked cheerily as her eyes scanned towards the kitchen to avoid his.

"That's what I came to ask you" Steve replied. Cheryl shrugged. 

He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder but she pulled away and headed across the room. Steve followed her. "C'mon. You sped away from work today, said you'd be back but didn't show up. I tried calling, both your mobile and here."

"Oh so you're checking up on me now! Well tell Masters I'll be in…."

"Don't" Steve interrupted her "You know why I'm here. I was worried. I wanted to see if you're OK."

"Frightened the 'voodoo' man got me, filled me with pins or tied me up like the doll in the photo?"

Steve didn't answer; he could sense his partners growing anxiety as the slightest hint of a tremor entered her voice.

"Hey, I'm not even sure that doll was meant to be me. You I could see, but mine had a bit too much hair didn't you think?" she laughed. But the laugh was hollow and they both knew it.

"What we saw the other night was terrible" he began despite Cheryl's attempts to keep the mood light. "We've both seen bad stuff in our time but something like that effects you, it has to. It doesn't mean we're not good at our job, or weak, or anything else, it just means we're still human beings at the end of the day and it would be criminal if we _didn't_ let our emotions come to light after seeing something like that." Cheryl didn't react except to cross her arms defensively.

"I know you're an experienced officer, been threatened and worse in your time, but it doesn't make those photo's any less of a shock to see either. They freaked me out a bit, even if they didn't you. The way you've been the last couple of days, I was worried about you" Steve said again as he took a step closer. "I'm worried how upset you were the other night. I'm worried that you look like you haven't slept a wink since."

"Look who's talking" she smiled and Steve grinned despite himself. He took another step closer and reached out again. This time Cheryl didn't move as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm worried that we've barely spoken since that night."

The silence echoed throughout the house and Steve could feel the tension in his partner's shoulders. Somewhere in his head the lyrics to the song he'd heard on the car radio began to taunt him.

__

I've got loads and loads of patience,

And I'm just as proud as you, 

But if it goes on 'til I'm dead and gone,

I won't come running on after you.

*Too true* he thought to himself. The feelings he had for Cheryl passed the professional boundary, but he wouldn't pressure her and he certainly wasn't ready to lay his pride on the line. He had to gauge her reaction first. With his hands still resting heavily on her shoulders the pair stood together in silence. The song played on in Steve's mind;

__

But if you enjoy remembering when you were my best friend,

Oh I'd really love to wake up sleeping in your arms again.

He tried to suppress a smile at the very thought of waking up next to Cheryl again. He must have failed, and caught Cheryl looking up at him, smiling yet confused. Steve let his arms fall clumsily down to her hips, holding her loosely he looked into her deep brown eyes for an eternity.

"Tell me?" he whispered.

"What's to tell?" Cheryl waited for a reply that never came. "Nothing happened, I was upset, yeah, and you crashed here. No big story so what's to talk about?" Her voice was low and melodic.

"I'm not trying to make this difficult" he assured her softly "I just want to know."

"Know what Steve?" she snapped, the change in tone startling him "we're partners and inevitably that spills over into our personal lives once in a while, but don't make a big deal out of it OK?"

Steve leant back against the counter, his hands shaking slightly. Cheryl pulled away and headed into the living room where she dropped into a chair. She pulled her knees in close to herself and rested her chin on top of them. She stared at the blank TV screen.

"I didn't come here to upset you Cheryl. I just wanted to be sure that we're OK. We are OK aren't we?" he asked without facing her.

"We?" she waited for clarification of his statement.

"We" he turned to face her but she was staring at the floor now. "We as in two people who work together. We as in two people who enjoy each other's company." He watched her fumble with the remote control. "We as in" he hesitated. As if on cue Cheryl turned towards him and their eyes met. Steve felt a jolt course through his body from his feet, straight up his spine to the top of his head. He waited a moment to catch breath then continued. "Is there another '_we_'?" he asked gently, the expectancy brimming in his voice.

"_We_ are colleagues, _we_ are friends" she replied, her voice wavering. "Do _you_ think there's another '_we_'?"

*Answering a question with a question* Steve thought, *putting the emphasis back on me*. If he told her he thought there was another '_we_' things would've inevitably become awkward, no matter what her response. If he said no…, there was no way he could honestly say no.

Steve moved towards the sofa and perched on the arm, leaning slightly towards his partner still curled in the neighbouring chair. "I think there could be" he whispered, trying to chew the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. A good, non-committal answer, not a '_yes_', but not a '_no_'. Cheryl recognised the cowardice in his reply and a grin spread slowly across her face. "When I stayed here the other night" Steve continued with more conviction in his voice now, "I knew what you were going through, because we are colleagues. I wanted to stay and make sure you were OK because we are friends. It's a good combination" he offered. 

"It is" she agreed.

"I like being with you" Cheryl tried to hide her embarrassment as Steve began speaking again "I think we get on well together and I know we respect each other." Cheryl faced him now, smiling wryly. "I also think you are, eh.." Steve's face became engulfed in a wide grin and took a sharp breath, unsure where to direct his eyes. "I also think you're a very attractive woman."

"Are you hitting on me Sloan?" Cheryl feigned horror and Steve couldn't hide his relief at her breaking of the tension. "I hear what you're saying" she continued, her smile dropping slowly "we've got a good basis for there to be another '_we_', but that's not a reason in itself, is it?"

"No, but if that's what we wanted it's a good start." Cheryl looked up at her partner, trying to sort through the many conflicting emotions in her mind. "I wasn't asking for any answers" Steve assured her, seeing the pained expression on her face. "I didn't come here to upset you."

"I know" she nodded.

"But I was worried that you maybe felt that the other night was, I don't know, wrong somehow. That you were upset and I took advantage, crossed the mark."

Cheryl reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Not at all, I wanted you to stay, I'm glad you did" she assured him. "I know I've been a little distant these last few days but none of it is your fault. You're right, I got pretty shook up by the crime scene and then…" she shrugged. "I've always relied on myself Steve. Even before my divorce I hated to feel like I needed somebody, my independence is very important to me. It feels like a failure for me to turn to you and ask you to stay the night because I'm scared or upset. I know that's not rational, that those are the times we need friends but it's not in my nature." She squeezed his arm lightly but he didn't quite feel it "I was frightened when I realised how good it felt just having you there beside me."

Steve slid down onto the sofa and patted the space beside him. Cheryl reluctantly joined him. "Does that mean you aren't strong or independent anymore?" he asked. 

Cheryl shook her head. "No" she whispered, knowing full well what he was trying to prove.

"Exactly. Wanting to be close to somebody and needing somebody are two different things. I wanted to be close to you too, I wanted to hold you and make sure you were OK. But that doesn't mean I think you can't take care of yourself. Is that what was worrying you?" he asked.

She nodded slowly "You saw me freaked out that night, and if I'd hung around today you'd have seen me freaked by those photo's too. You need to be able to trust me Steve, there are time's when we're covering each others backs and our lives depend on that trust. I don't want you looking back to check on me or thinking that I'm not going to be able to cover you because you've seen me a wreck the night before. It's exactly why they don't let married couples work in the same department, conflict of interests."

Steve thought about it for a while. "If things did change between us, if that's what we both wanted, I can't promise you one hundred percent that our working relationship wouldn't change a little too. But I can't see it being too much different, I'd still trust you like I do now, and I'd still worry about you like I do now."

Cheryl passed the palms of her hands across her face "I don't know" she mumbled. Steve thought about slipping his arm around her shoulder but changed his mind. He rubbed his hands slowly together before letting them rest in his lap. "This case is too much" Cheryl blurted from beside him "it's got me too confused. If this was any other time I…I.."

"It's OK, it's OK" he reassured her

"Right now I need you too much as a friend" she continued, her voice close to breaking

"Then I'm here for you, no pressure"

"After this is over, when things are more normal at work then maybe, I mean if you still want we can.."

"Sshh" Steve enveloped her in his arms as she began to shake "It's OK." He held her until her breathing was again soft and even and her eyes were lightly closed. He closed his too, not to sleep, just to savour being alone together, so close to one another. 

Just as had happened on their first evening together, Steve found himself hypnotised by the rhythm of her breathing. Cheryl whimpered quietly as she buried her face deeper into Steve's chest, and he felt her grip on his upper arm tighten. He also felt himself drifting to sleep. Some time later he reluctantly opened his eyes and stood slowly, gently cradling and lowering Cheryl's head to the seat as she slumped into the space he'd made. He grinned to himself looking down at her, then began bending to pick Cheryl up from where she lay. But he paused, realising that it would be the gallant thing to do, but it probably not as dignified in reality as in his head. Instead he leant over and gently brushed a finger across her cheek until her eyelids fluttered open.

"C'mon" he whispered huskily "I know for a fact you've got a perfectly good bed next door" then sensing her hesitation he smiled "Don't worry Banks, I promise to behave."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"That's the third time tonight!" Jesse exclaimed from behind the counter of BBQ Bob's as Steve mopped up the drink he'd just spilt over a customer and the table "he's really bad for business sometimes". Amanda and Mark smiled at each other as Jesse removed their empty plates. Steve trudged past them without speaking and appeared again a moment later from the kitchen with a fresh drink in his hand. When he'd served the disgruntled customer he took a seat beside Amanda and let out a heavy sigh.

Jesse rolled his eyes "You're so clumsy, gonna cost us business" he scolded. Steve was obviously not amused at being corrected by his young partner. He didn't reply, just focused on a jar of pickles in front of him.

"Trying to make it levitate?" Jesse aimed to ease the tension but Steve didn't react, instead he turned to Amanda

"Can you get the lid off that jar?"

She shrugged, then realising it was a serious challenge she picked it up, held it close to her stomach and popped the lid. Steve shook his head.

"What is it?" Mark asked, suspicion creeping across his face.

"Nothing" Steve huffed "I'm off Jesse, lock up again will you?" He didn't give his friend a chance to protest, or to say goodbye, just made his way outside.

Mark followed a few steps behind his son; Steve didn't hear him as he tried to force the key into the car door. Mark squinted through the darkness; Steve's hands shook making the key dance around the lock, he mumbled, then cursed as he dropped the key. Crouching slowly, stiffly, he fumbled to pick the key up from the ground. Mark stepped forwards.

Placing the key in Steve's hands he said "A couple of days ago, at the hospital, your hands were giving you trouble" Steve nodded, forcing a smile.

"Honest officer, I haven't touched a drop" he slurred comically. 

Mark didn't laugh but reached forwards and held one of Steve's hands in his own "Squeeze my hand"

"Dad" Steve pulled away "I haven't got Jesse's repetitive strain injury".

"So why are you dropping things and shaking. Why couldn't you get the top off the pickle jar?"

Steve smiled; Mark could usually spot the motives behind his actions. He looked down at his hands again and a frown returned to his face.

"I'm not saying it's RSI, but something is wrong, why don't we go to the hospital?"

"No". He waited for Mark's reply, when none came he conceded "Why don't we go home, or back inside?" Mark reluctantly agreed with a single nod, and together they made their way back into the restaurant.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve and Mark sat on chairs opposite each other, knees almost touching. There were no customers left now and Amanda and Jesse hovered by the counter, aware of Steve's embarrassment. Mark held his son's hands in his own.

"Squeeze again" he instructed. Steve gritted his teeth and attempted to comply. "Ah-ha, and now raise your arms out to the sides like this" Mark posed like a child impersonating an aeroplane. Steve's arms were crooked, wouldn't straighten fully and then began to shake. Seeing his son was in some discomfort Mark signalled for him to drop them again. He rummaged in his pocked then pulled out a handful of coins. "OK, can you pick up a dime?" Steve concentrated, poked a finger and thumb into his fathers palm but failed to bring them together around the shiny prize. He shook his head in defeat and slumped back in the chair, hands resting in his lap.

"Diagnosis?" he asked loudly enough for Amanda and Jesse to be included in his question.

Mark raised his eyebrows "Got me a little stumped, no bangs to the head, migraines?"

"No, is that bad?" he asked quickly.

"Probably good if anything. What else, any other changes you've noticed? Can you describe how your hands feel?"

"Well they" Steve began "they feel kind of numb I guess. And my feet too, they started out the same as my hands, like a dull ache that just kept getting worse but now I feel cold, up to just above my ankles".

Mark nodded "When did you first notice it?"

Steve smiled a little "The night Cheryl and I heard about the Bennet murders I guess. But it's become worse in the last few days"

"Maybe it's voodoo" Jesse suggested, immediately wishing he could take the foolish statement back.

Steve was shocked for a moment, wondering if there was any way Jesse could know about the photos he and Cheryl had received. He huffed "Is that what you think too dad, that this is some sort of voodoo spell or my mind playing tricks on me? You think I'm going crazy?"

"No" Mark shook his head, surprised by the outburst. He held one of Steve's hands again. This time his touch was of a concerned father, not a doctor "It's possibly a circulation problem, but for it to come on so quickly, it's been what, 6 days?" Steve nodded. "That's very quick for a circulation problem, I think we should go to the hospital" looking over at his two colleagues who shrugged then nodded in silent agreement. He paused, not wanting to shock his son "I think we should go now".

Steve didn't argue, and together they left for the hospital.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Amanda was aware of Mark pacing the floor of her path lab as she attempted to finish some of her reports. It had been almost two hours since they'd arrived with Steve who'd insisted on seeing the doctors alone, leaving Jesse to get some sleep down the hall and Amanda with a pile of paperwork.

"Arthritis?" Mark sounded as unconvinced as he had with his previous 20 diagnoses. Amanda shook her head, her upturned nose confirming with him it was unlikely given the history. "Allergic reaction would still fit for the sudden onset but the numbness doesn't really tie in". Amanda put her pen down and gave Mark her full attention now. 

She smiled up at him "He's in good hands Mark, whatever it is Chan will figure it out. I'm sure it's something obvious, something simple we're missing"

"We're doctors" Mark cried "we aren't supposed to miss things." He sounded horrified by her suggestion, yet he knew she'd offered them only as words of comfort. He was about to continue when the door behind him creaked open and gingerly Steve walked in.

"Well?" Mark demanded too harshly. Steve looked drained now, pale and unsteady on his feet. Mark offered a hand to steady him but Steve brushed him off and eased himself into the chair by the door. "What did Chan say" Marks tone had softened now and he inwardly braced himself for bad news.

Steve shrugged "Noting medically wrong that he can find, asked the same questions as you did, did the same tests. Says it could be stress related, working long hours, nature of the case. Or a trapped nerve, he said that can cause problems but nothing for sure". He tried to sound positive "A few days off work and I should be feeling better, if not he said to come back in and he'd take another look".

Mark wanted to storm to Chan's consulting room and tell him he was wrong. He had always respected him, that's why he insisted Steve see him. Now though he was sure his friend had missed something. Yet he also knew that exploding wouldn't do anything to calm Steve's obvious fears. 

"Lets get you home then" his voice was brimming with anger. Steve shot him a concerned look knowing full well what his father thought, then addressed Amanda

"You think Dr Leong is wrong too?"

Amanda's eyes darted to her desktop then to Mark. Finally they fell on Steve's own eyes which were glazed and wide like an expectant child. "I don't think resting will hurt for now, see how you feel in the morning".

Typically diplomatic Steve thought. He wished Amanda goodnight and allowed his father to place a guiding arm on his as they made their way out into the dimly lit corridor. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"I'm sorry but no" Mark told the person at the other end of the phone "he's not available for work today….no.….I can but he's not…" Steve slowly moved up behind his father and gestured for him to hand over the receiver.

"Sloan here…..Chief hi….really, uh-hu", there was a pause "It'd be better if you could come over here." Mark frowned "OK, see you then". Steve hung up and sat next to his father. "I know, take it easy but there's a couple of things we need to discuss, this guy has to be stopped dad".

Despite his interest in the case Mark wanted his son to stay away from it at the moment. He looked across at Steve who'd sat back on the sofa; his usually athletic body seemed deflated, his shoulders slumped lopsidedly, his legs hung helplessly from his hips and his head fell weakly to one side. The dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants looked a size too big for him now.

Though his eyes had been focused on the floor Steve was aware of his fathers visual check-up. "I'm OK" he offered as an answer to the questioning gaze "I'll make sure Masters doesn't stay too long, I should just get the details from him. Why don't you go to the hospital?"

Mark was reluctant to leave him alone in this state but he knew Steve would resent his presence, especially if Chan turned out to be right and this was no more than exhaustion. *If only*, he thought to himself, because in Mark's mind there was no doubt that something was wrong with Steve. Something very wrong indeed.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Mark, Jesse and Amanda sat together over lunch "When I popped back for my other glasses" Mark began oblivious to Amanda and Jesse's smirks. It was plain to them, as it probably had been to Steve, that Mark had gone home to check up on his patient and not to retrieve his spare pair of glasses. Mark took a drink of water "Master's was getting ready to leave when he said something similar to Jesse's voodoo remark the other night. I wasn't eavesdropping" Amanda and Jesse smirked at his plea of innocence "but Masters said something along the lines of they were taking the photo's as a serious threat towards Steve and Cheryl."

"Photos?" Amanda asked "like the ones found with the victims?"

Mark's eyes widened and he shrugged "I can only presume so".

"So Steve and Cheryl got photos, supposed to show what's going to happen to them and now he's feeling…unwell"

Mark didn't like the approach Jesse was taking with this information. In his mind his son was in physical danger from a murderer and given his poor health, he was in no state to defend himself should it be necessary. 

Jesse couldn't contain the broad grin as he shuffled almost excitedly in his chair "Is Cheryl OK?" he asked hastily.

Mark just nodded wearily, hoping the young man would drop this foolish line of thought. Looking across at the old man sat staring out into space Amanda's heart sank, his eyes were glimmering with the tears beginning to form.

Jesse didn't pick up on his colleagues' body language and continued thinking out loud "this is like one of those things you see on TV, you know I…."

"Jesse" Amanda snapped, and her young friend instantly fell silent. Before she could begin to try and console Mark, he and Jesse were paged to the ER to meet an incoming convoy of ambulances. Glumly she noted how Mark swallowed hard and sniffed back the tears as he stood to leave.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

The phone in the beach house chirped impatiently as Steve sat sleeping on the sofa. He stirred, raising a heavy hand to his face, managing only to clumsily rub his eye with the back of his knuckles. As he glanced at the clock opposite him he realised he'd been sleeping almost five hours, and the evening sky outside had turned deep blue as it awaited the blackness of night. The phone continued to ring as Steve placed a hand either side of his legs to push himself to his feet. He only managed to raise himself up an inch or so when his elbows bent sharply and he bounced back down onto the sofa. He shook his head in defiance as the phone continued in it's repetitive invitation for him to get up and walk to it. Steve pushed the weight of his body forward as he again braced his arms on the seat of the sofa. More luck this time, he thought as he found himself standing, still slightly bent at the waist. 

The victory was short lived. As the ringing stopped Steve's knees buckled and his legs gave way like a concertina beneath him. It was like slow motion he thought, as he watched the clock creeping up the wall in front of his eyes. He landed with a gentle bump and slumped to one side, closing his eyes instinctively when he feared he'd catch his head on the coffee table. As he lay on the floor, legs tucked up beside him he almost laughed at the ridiculous nature of it all. He'd had cramp before, pins and needles, 'dead legs' but nothing like this. "Trapped nerve, huh?" he asked the empty room.

A moment later the ringing began again, this time though the noise was emanating from his mobile phone that he'd left on the kitchen table. Steve again attempted to push himself to his feet, and it was then his expression changed from bemusement to horror. While his arms had some sluggish movement left in them there was no strength there anymore. He tried to move his legs; nothing at first. Steve stared to breathe rapidly, looking around the room for some kind of lifeline. Both phones were out of reach from down here, but he was determined not to simply lie and wait for somebody to find him. 

As if on some army manoeuvre Steve began to awkwardly drag himself across the living room floor on his stomach. Flinging his arms in front of himself he tried to pull his body forward. His legs proved little help in the process, despite his best efforts to co-ordinate their movements they primarily flinched and jerked of their own accord, hindering more than helping his advance. After gaining only a few feet of ground he collapsed breathlessly, face down. The phone stopped ringing again and Steve closed his eyes in defeat.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Well?" Amanda looked concerned as Mark shook his head.

"Not answering his mobile either, I think I'd better get Cheryl to meet me over there".

"Want me to come?" Jesse asked and Mark looked unsure

"You've had a rough shift, you know you don't have to…"

Jesse didn't even answer as he and Mark headed out the door.

"Call me" Amanda shouted after them but they were already gone.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Steve, Steve! Are you in here" Mark shouted desperately as he threw open the front door. There was no response, and as Mark looked around the living room there was no sign of his son.

"Steve" he called again as he paced towards the kitchen "Steve, where are you?"

"Down here" came the simple and dry reply.

Mark turned quickly, shocked yet relieved by the answer. Steve sat with his back against the wall, his whole body slumped heavily to the left hand side. He was pale and tired looking as Mark knelt beside him, his hands instinctively beginning a physical examination of his son.

"What happened?" Mark asked, placing a hand on Steve's forehead as Jesse crouched beside them.

"I got up to answer the phone and my legs just gave way" he explained, wanting to laugh again at how feeble it all sounded. Mark checked his pulse.

"We were calling to check you were OK" Jesse apologised.

"Oh thanks!" Steve smiled. He read the expression on his fathers face and closed his eyes. Mark took the opportunity to shoot a worried glance at Jesse.

"Steve, we're going to get you to the hospital" Mark explained, but Steve didn't respond.

"Steve, do you think if we help you that you could try to stand?".

Steve shrugged lopsidedly "Give it a go".

Jesse and Mark each took a limp arm around their neck and managed to raise Steve eight inches from the floor.

"Can you straighten you legs?" Jesse asked and to Steve's own amazement he managed to, just a little.

Mark and Jesse hoisted him further from the floor, both straining under his weight.

"No, no put me down," Steve cried. He collapsed back against the wall as his father and friend lost their grip on him, and he again fell to the left. Mark was there to support his head as he lay helplessly on his side.

"I'll get an ambulance" Jesse asserted as Mark tried to move his son into a more comfortable position.

"You're going to be OK" Mark reassured him, hoping his words didn't sound as hollow to Steve as they did in his own head.

Steve closed his eyes as if hiding from the truth "What is this?" he asked, almost pleaded.

"I don't know yet, but we'll get to the bottom of it".

Jesse returned to the room and nodded to indicate the ambulance was on it's way. Cheryl followed a few steps behind him, gasping as she saw Steve sprawled out on the floor. Her hand instinctively darted towards the gun on her hip and she spun quickly, assessing the room.

"What happened?" she shouted, "was he here?"

"No" Steve whispered, "It's OK."

Cheryl shot a quizzical look at Mark, but he was totally focused on his son now. Realising there was no present danger, Cheryl bent down towards her partner "What happened, are you OK?" When Steve didn't reply she addressed the same question to Mark. "Dr Sloan?"

Jesse reached out and gently took her elbow, leading her reluctantly through into the living room. 

"What is it dad?" Steve whispered again, as if Mark may be holding something from him. "Just tell me, if it's a brain tumour, or a stroke or something just tell me" he begged.

"I don't know" Mark apologised

"You would tell me, right?"

"If I knew I would tell you, I promise"

"One of you must know, my legs didn't pack up for no reason. Please, one of you just tell me" he urged, failing to notice that Jesse had left the room.

Realising Steve's desperation was upsetting him greatly Mark shuffled down lower on the floor, almost lying beside his son now. He ran a soothing hand across Steve's face "It's gonna be OK, I promise you. We'll figure this out and we'll get you better, just try and take it easy". 

The sirens could be heard approaching outside as Mark continued to comfort his son.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mark paced the floor outside the consulting room as Amanda and Jesse looked on. Cheryl hovered at the other end of the corridor, a pay phone receiver pressed against her ear. 

"How did he do?" Mark snapped at the white-coated man as he exited the room.

"His responses in the NCV were generally quite slow and the EMG results were as we expected. In some cases both the nerves and muscles in an are severely effected. I'll check on his blood tests and I'll be right back." 

Mark looked back to Amanda and Jesse

"I explained it to your son, you can go in and see him now if you like" the doctor prompted, before turning to leave.

Mark pushed past him into the room where Steve sat in a white hospital gown, propped up in bed. He was surrounded by all manner of equipment and looked highly agitated. The male nurse beside him turned and left the room as Amanda and Jesse stood in the doorway.

"How do you feel?" Mark asked a slight tremor in his voice.

"Like I've been electrocuted for 30 minutes then used as a pin cushion" Steve replied and Jesse smiled from the doorway. "Dr Evil out there said it wouldn't hurt, do you all lie to your patients like that?"

Mark knew Steve was attempting to lighten the mood, but he wanted to reassure him that the tests were necessary in forming a diagnosis.

"I know, I know" Steve continued before his father could speak "this electro-my-o-thingy"

"electromyogram" Amanda corrected him

"EMG" Jesse added.

Steve smiled "this EMG and NCV tells them a lot about what's going on but…"

"But what?" Mark asked sharply.

"How long 'til they work this out. Surely there are a certain amount of known diseases or disorders in this world, the number of doctors in a place like this, surely one of them knows what's up"

Mark smiled "that's why we're getting different consultants to take a look at you."

"Can't you just broadcast my symptoms on the PA, tell everyone there's a free meal at BBQ Bobs for the first correct answer."

They all smiled at the suggestion, but Steve's nonchalant expression was wearing thin.

Movement in the doorway caught Steve's eye. Amanda turned as Cheryl lightly tapped her shoulder and the two women moved out into the empty corridor.

"They're still running test's" Amanda informed her "Could be a while before we know anything." Cheryl nodded, and Amanda noticed how red her eyes were. "He'll be OK" she assured her, not knowing for sure if that was the truth.

"Hope you aren't talking about me!" Steve croaked, barely loud enough for them to hear, both women smiled.

"I've got to go, I'll call back later" Cheryl said, peering round the doorframe. Steve hesitated, glanced at his father and then called out to her.

"No, hang on."

Amanda gestured to Jesse that he should join her in the corridor, and Cheryl filled the gap made by his departure. "I'll be right outside" Mark assured Steve, closing the door as he left.

Cheryl stood awkwardly, trying not to stare at her partner lying helplessly in the hospital bed.

Steve's eyebrows formed a 'V' as he tried to think what it was he wanted to say to the woman who stood before him. He knew that his present condition did nothing to simplify their situation.

"Anything I can do?" Cheryl asked, her voice straining and her arms wrapping around herself defensively.

"C'm here" Steve replied, managing only to turn one hand palm up on the bed beside him as way of a gesture. Cheryl moved closer and took his fingertips lightly in her own.

"Did you tell your father?" she asked gently, referring to the photo's they'd received. His look answered her question better than words could. "I know" she continued "but you've got to be careful, it could be some kind of poison or.."

"I've thought of that, and if these tests don't show anything then maybe I'll mention it. But I just didn't want dad to worry, though I have a feeling that he may have overheard something already, when Masters came over this morning." 

"So much for it being hush-hush"

Steve thought for a moment. "It's not his style, our 'voodoo' guy. He's not into poisoning, he's far more direct, brutal."

"But sending photos in advance isn't in his usual routine either" she pointed out "I just think you should be careful, until we know what we're dealing with." 

"Until we know what's wrong with me, or until we know who this guy is?"

"Both" she shrugged "I know how silly it sounds, but I just want to make sure you're OK"

"And I want to be sure you're alright too" Steve responded "Like you say, until we're sure, we have to be careful. I don't think you staying alone in your apartment is a good idea"

Cheryl smiled, remembering how she hadn't actually spent the last few nights alone for a change.

"Even if they release me tonight" he added, knowing how unlikely that outcome was "I'll have to go home, I couldn't stay with y….."

"It's OK" she assured him "just you worry about yourself, and I'll take care of me."

"No", his response had more strength than he'd intended. He knew what her reaction would be to his next statement, but he let it out anyhow. "I think you should stay at the beach house for a while."

Cheryl paused deliberately before answering "I can see why you'd say that but…"

"_Please_" he began, his interruption throwing her slightly "If I'm here I can't do anything. Hell!" he laughed "even at home I'd be worse than useless. What if this guy does come looking for me, finds dad there alone?"

Cheryl knew Steve's concern for his father was genuine, but she also knew how conveniently it fitted his plan to have Mark take care of _her_ too. There was no way for her to refuse, her friend needed a favour and she had to agree.

"OK, I'll stop by home on my way to the station, get some things together. When I'm finished, I'll come back here, I shouldn't be long. Sure it's alright with your dad?"

"Of course"

"I know how your mind works Sloan" she warned him as a guilty look crept over his face.

"One more thing" he said as she gently let go of his hand. "You know that this isn't my way of putting pressure on, y'know for there to be another type of '_we_'"

"I know" she smiled, and turned towards the door. "Just watching each others backs". Steve closed his eyes as she turned to leave. Cheryl stopped and glanced over her shoulder towards him. She hovered with her fingers wrapped lightly around the door handle. Letting them drop down to her sides again she walked back over to the bed. Steve's eyes shot open as he sensed her approaching, Cheryl placed one palm flat on his cheek, fingers curling around his strong jaw, her other hand braced against the pillow at the side of Steve's head. Swiftly, without doubt or hesitation she pressed her lips firmly to his, allowing them to stay there, she thought to herself, for a few seconds longer than she should. She straightened up and let her hand run down his cheek.

"Thank You" he whispered, and the embarrassment shone in both their eyes.

"I'll be back soon"

"I'm not going anywhere." The joke was flat, and Cheryl's eyes began to well with tears as she again turned and left the room.

Steve heard a muffled exchange outside, and suddenly seemed aware of his surroundings again. It was as if his exchange with Cheryl, though very brief, had been enough to take his mind off his situation. Now the feeling of being trapped in his own failing body entered his head again and he had to consciously control his breathing.

Mark was again at Steve's bedside before he noticed it, confirming that Cheryl had a key to the beach house and would be staying for a while. He continued to talk but Steve wasn't really listening, a fact that Mark noticed after a short moment.

"Steve, _Steve_, are you OK?" he asked frantically.

"Uh-huh" was the absent-minded response he administered without thinking.

"Did you hear what I said?" Steve looked at his father blankly. "They want to take you downstairs and perform a lumbar puncture."

Mark braced himself for Steve's response but was greeted with silence.

"I've got a stupid question" Steve admitted sheepishly, the change of topic raising confused looks between the three visitors in the room.

"Go on" Mark replied

"That first doctor, the one who came to the ER and did the blood tests"

"Yes"

"He was asking all those questions, medical history I suppose, and one of the things he asked was about exposure to toxins like pesticides and stuff."

There was a hush for while, then Jesse moved forward from the doorway "You want to know if you missed something out, something you want us to mention now?" 

Steve looked embarrassed, but Mark's stare was angry, confused. "Whatever it is, tell us"

"It's stupid" he continued.

"Steve, _any_ information you may have…."

"That's the trouble, I don't have any information, it's just….." When Steve tailed off nobody spoke, and he knew they were all waiting for him to continue. "I received what you might call a '_threat_' the other day, but it was after the onset of the symptoms so…."

"What type of threat?" Amanda prompted gently,

Mark already knew the answers "photographs, Chief Masters was talking about them with you this morning"

Steve attempted to nod, but even that appeared to be almost beyond his control now.

"These photos, are they the same as the crime scene ones?" Jesse asked.

"Not exactly, no dissection just…." Steve couldn't stop the wide beaming smile that crept across his face.

"What?" Mark prompted him impatiently

"The dolls in the photos were tied up, _unable to move_, get it?"

Nobody laughed.

"Dolls plural" Mark said "Cheryl?"

"That's why I don't like the idea of her being alone in her apartment, that's our guys general MO, woman in the house alone, guess he didn't figure Hazel Bennett would be much use defending her mother, if he knew about her in the first place"

"And you think he might have somehow enacted this…this…" Jesse flapped his arms around stumbling over his words. "You think somehow he poisoned you to create the scene in his photo?"

"It's possible" Amanda replied "but highly unlikely. The tox-screens all came back negative. In fact the blood work in general was in order."

Mark nodded in confirmation.

"OK, stupid question but I had to ask right?" Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'll mention it just in case" Mark reassured him. "Anything else?"

"The questions the ER guy asked, did they give you guys any clues what he was thinking."

Amanda shook her head "standard medical history. Recent infections, illnesses, any vaccinations, other symptoms, substance abuse, contact with toxins, family history of nerve diseases."

"There's no family history, right?" he asked Mark calmly.

"Nothing like this."

"My last tetanus jab was last month but he thought it was unlikely to have anything to do with it."

"You mentioned that bad throat you had a couple of weeks back?" Mark asked

"Yeah, you think that's important?"

"I'm sorry son, the best I can say for now is that you've got good people looking into this. The best in fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. I wish I had answers for you but I don't. This is out of my field I'm afraid."

"I know dad, I'm sorry for hassling you, it's just frustrating lying here, waiting for the verdict."

"I know son, but just be patient, be patient." 

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Steve was still in his hospital bed, being pushed now into another room. His father was already talking to the doctor who was standing at the far side of the room inspecting a tray of instruments.

"That'll be five bucks" Jesse joked as he helped the nurses push the bed into place.

Mark turned around "Steve, you remember Dr Jones?"

"Call me Arnie. Pleased to meet you again Steve, your dad continues to update me on your fine career." He extended a hand, which Steve managed to take hold of weakly. "Your father's told you what we brought you down here for?"

"A spinal tap" Steve replied

"We prefer to call it a lumbar puncture"

"Does that make it hurt any less?" Steve joked

"It really shouldn't hurt too much anyway" Jesse told him.

"Have you got any questions about the procedure?" Dr Jones asked.

Steve shook his head with almost mechanical slowness "you can tell more from this than from the blood tests right?"

"It gives us different information, that's all. You just need to roll onto your side, I'll perform the test and then we wait for the results, OK?"

"OK, someone want to give me a hand rolling over?" 

Jesse stepped forward to help Dr Jones as Mark looked on. They collapsed the back of the bed and supported Steve's head as they removed his pillow, allowing him to lie flat on his back. Jesse then manoeuvred Steve's arms, folding them across his chest as Dr Jones arranged his legs. 

Steve grinned "If they try and saw me in half you'd better stop them" he warned Mark. The truth was he felt so helpless as they twisted and turned him as if he were a puppet who'd had his strings cut.

"On the count of three" Dr Jones instructed "1…2…3".

Steve winced as he found himself being turned onto his side, Jesse pulling pillows down to support his back before putting his arms in a more natural position. Dr Jones bunched Steve's legs up a little and then disappeared from sight. Mark pulled up a stool by Steve's face and took hold of one of his hands.

"Would you mind assisting, Dr Travis" Dr Jones asked "Just hold our patient here in place"

"No" Steve barked

"What's wrong?" Mark asked, taken aback by the sudden outburst "It'll be over in a little while."

Steve closed his eyes "I'm sorry Jess, I'd prefer it to be somebody else, someone I didn't know."

"Not a problem" Jesse chirped though it was evident Steve's words had surprised, and maybe even hurt him "I'll find you a nurse."

Dr Jones looked over at Mark, questioning his presence.

"Steve, do you want me to go too?" he whispered

"No, I want you to stay for this if that's OK?"

"Sure it is" he smiled, smoothing Steve's hair from his forehead "Sure it is".

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"OK Steve" Dr Jones began "I'm just going to mark the right spot here on your back." Steve felt the doctor's fingers walking down his spine and then a sensation he couldn't quite place. "That's L4-L5" he stated, and Steve presumed that information was for his father's benefit.

"Your dad tells me you're not allergic to iodine or lignocaine Steve, is that right"

"Not allergic to anything that I know of"

"Good" he replied "I'll just clean the area off first" Steve felt a small cold patch develop low down on his back. "And now I'll numb the area, nothing special just a regular injection, little prick and that's it."

Though Steve felt something as Dr Jones administered the anaesthetic it wasn't really a pain. In fact Steve's whole body had a remote, desensitised feeling about it.

"All done" Dr Jones chirped, popping the needle into a sharps box. "Just wait for that to kick in."

Mark smiled down at Steve though his eyes darted across to his colleague as he prepared the needles and vials for the procedure. Steve's stomach began to turn somersaults but he tried not to show it.

"Now Mark, if you can make sure Steve keeps his shoulders and head rounded down" the voice from behind Steve instructed "nurse, keep his knees up tight."

Though Steve could feel very little now, his stomach still knotted as he sensed Dr Jones move close to him again. Steve gritted his teeth as the needle entered his flesh and Mark looked over at Dr Jones.

"Sliding in between the vertebrae now, nice and easy does it"

Steve wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, his damn commentary making him feel worse than the needle in his hand, but he lay there unable to speak. He tried to squeeze his father's hand harder and Mark realised it, tightening his own grip. "It's OK son, you're doing well."

Mark watched as the needle slipped further into his sons back, and almost winced himself when it met some resistance. 

"OK Steve, I'm going to get the nurse and your dad to straighten you up a bit." Steve felt both comply to the doctors orders. "Moving you like this increases the pressure in your spine, it helps the fluid come out more easily" he heard Dr Jones explain.

Steve closed his eyes and tried to block out the blow by blow account he was receiving. Technical words and impressive phrases littered the air for a few minutes, then everything around Steve suddenly became quiet and still. 

"Steve" he heard his father call after a short while

"I'm OK" he replied, and apart from the butterflies in his stomach he really didn't feel any pain now.

"Arnie will just take a couple more samples and then he'll test the pressure in your subarachnoid space again."

Steve smiled faintly and opened his eyes. Mark looked down at him puzzled.

"You sound like a doctor" Steve explained.

"One more to go" Dr Jones interrupted from someplace out of Steve's view.

Mark watched his colleague as the stylet was drawn back, for a few seconds there was nothing then slowly fluid began to fill the clear tube. Steve's breathing suddenly became more ragged, so Mark lent closer to him.

"I know" he whispered "almost there, just breathe evenly, in through your nose, out through your mouth." He demonstrated and Steve attempted to copy him, trying not to think about how stupid those husbands always looked in pre-natal classes.

"Almost done" Dr Jones' words were like music to Steve's ears "I just need to check the pressure again and then we're done."

Steve lay still for what felt like an eternity before anyone spoke again. "Everything seems normal so I'm going to slide the needle out now." Steve sucked in a quick breath as he did so, causing him to make a little hissing sound between his teeth. "And that's it, done and dusted." Steve let out an inaudible sigh of relief, and looked up at Mark.

"You did just fine" his father assured him as Dr Jones wiped the site around the needle mark clean. 

"You've got to lie still for a few hours, on your stomach or you back, whichever you prefer, then we'll move you to a more comfortable position after that."

"My back" Steve replied and sluggishly nodded his understanding as Dr Jones filled out the paper work. When he'd finished he helped the nurse roll him onto his back as Mark supported his head. 

"OK, I'll run this down to the lab, it'll take a few hours at least to get the full results. You rest here for a while then we'll move you to your own room, OK?"

Mark nodded "Thanks Arnie, and thanks again for coming out so late." He turned his attention back to Steve who'd screwed his eyes tightly closed. "Are you OK?" he asked but Steve didn't answer. Jesse and Amanda poked their heads around the door and Mark hastily beckoned them in. "Steve?" he asked again.

Steve opened his eyes which were slightly reddened "feel sick" was all he managed to croak. Amanda grabbed a bowl from the trolley and reached over to Steve just in time.

"Is that better?" Mark asked, dabbing a paper towel to his sons mouth and Steve blinked in reply 

"Sorry about that Amanda" he croaked, looking like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor and a mother, I've seen worse. And if you splashed me you'll get the dry cleaning bill" she shot a worried glance at Mark.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Mark asked again but Steve didn't reply.

"I've heard of post spinal tap headaches" Jesse began "but it shouldn't make you nauseous."

"I think it was just….nerves" Steve admitted bashfully.

"Nothing for you to worry about now, that's it over with" Mark reminded him.

Steve noticed Jesse still standing by the doorway "Sorry for kicking you out Jesse, but that nurse was prettier than you y'know?" Jesse ginned "Oh and thanks for lying, first Dr Evil says EMG's are painless then you tell me spinal taps are a walk in the park. How do you doctors ever gain patients trust?"

Mark looked down realising he was still tightly gripping Steve's hand. He gently slipped lose and stood up. "I'm leaving Amanda here to make sure you don't move, I have to make a quick call, I'll be back in a little while OK?"

"OK dad" Steve replied as Amanda occupied Marks seat. She placed her small hand on Steve's bare arm, though he knew she was touching him he could barely feel it, her skin on his was as faint as if it were her breath.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"There you are" Jesse observed as he found Mark sitting alone in the doctors lounge. Mark's head flinched up and his worried eyes met Jesse's "It's OK, I just came to tell you we settled Steve into a room up on three, Arnie said the results shouldn't be long now."

Mark nodded, but Jesse could see he was lost in a world of his own. "He'll be OK, the lumbar puncture has to give us a clue."

"I hate to see him like this Jess, especially when I don't know how to help him. I just had to get out before, sorry I left you and Amanda to deal with it."

"He needs you there when Dr Jones comes back Mark, I think we should go up there now."

Mark nodded wearily and followed Jesse out into the corridor.

"Dr Sloan!"

Mark turned sharply as the stern voice called out behind him. Chief Masters and a second younger man paced down the corridor towards him. Masters extended a hand which Mark accepted, though he was intent on keeping their meeting as brief as possible.

"How is he?" Masters cut to the chase.

When Mark didn't reply Jesse stepped in "We're waiting on some more test results."

"When I saw him at your house he said it was fatigue, nothing more. Now I hear he's paralysed."

Mark grimaced at the insensitivity of his statement. "We don't know for sure what's wrong with Steve" he barked "if you'll excuse us I want to be with my son now."

"I've some questions for him, we'll come with you" Masters asserted and made a move to follow the two doctors. Mark shot him an angry glare. "This is Agent Malcolm Reynolds, FBI" he waved an arm apologetically at the young man beside him.

"I'm not concerned who he is at the moment, Steve is unwell and the last thing he needs is…."

"I don't think you understand sir" Reynolds cut in. "Your son is involved in a very high profile case and…."

"And that gives you no right to interfere at a time like this!"

"Dr Sloan" Masters' tone had mellowed in an attempt to influence his decision. "How about we go and ask Steve how he feels about talking to us?"

Mark looked at Jesse and fought to keep his reply courteous. "I'm warning you, he's very weak and very agitated at the moment. If he doesn't want to talk to you nobody is going to make him."

"We just need some answers" Reynolds replied smugly.

"And Steve needs his privacy" Mark hissed back.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Cheryl perched hesitantly on the foot of Steve's bed as Amanda stood by the window; Mark and Jesse were nowhere in sight. The two women looked at each other, each hoping the other would initiate some sort of conversation to break the deafening silence. Their glances soon fell back to Steve, who was lying motionless on the bed, head slightly raised now though he wasn't fully sitting up.

"It's been three hours" he murmured.

"I'm sure they'll have the results soon" Amanda assured him, but Steve just sighed. She realised he was enquiring about the whereabouts of his father, not the test results.

As if on cue, the door opened and Mark and Jesse entered.

"Full house" Jesse smiled, 

Mark seemed to ignore his son and instead turned to Cheryl. "Oh, you're back, good. Did you pack a bag?"

Cheryl nodded shyly. "Listen" she started, tapping Steve's foot. "Jesse's right, it's getting crowded in here so I'll leave you guys to it for a while, OK?"

Steve wanted to tell her it wasn't OK, but he didn't want to embarrass her in front of the others either. So he smiled and watched as she shuffled her way out of the room.

"Chief Masters is outside and some guy from the FBI, they want to talk to you but I told them they'd have to wait a while." Steve thought about it and shrugged.

"These results should show something right?" The question was a rhetorical one "so when we know more I'll speak to them."

Mark checked his watch, sat down in the spot left vacant by Cheryl's departure and drummed his fingers on his knee. He looked at his watch again and ran a finger across his lips "maybe I should go and find Arnie".

He was about to get up when there was a light knock on the door. Dr Jones pushed his head into the room and smiled towards Steve in a well-rehearsed fashion. "Steve" he began "do you mind if I have a word with your dad?" and nodded towards Mark.

Steve looked puzzled "If it's the results then you can just tell me"

"I know, but there's something I want to check with your father first, do I have your permission to do that?"

"You're not trying to keep something from me?" he asked nervously

Dr Jones shook his head "not at all" and then to Mark "can we step outside?"

Both doctors tried to make their exit as casual as possible but Mark's mind was a buzz with reasons for the consultation.

Once in the corridor Dr Jones signalled for Mark to move further away from the room. At the other side of the doorway Cheryl was deep in discussion with Masters and Reynolds.

"Arnie what is it?" Mark asked impatiently.

In a slightly hushed voice he began, "Spinal fluid showed greatly increased protein levels, coupled with the results of the EMG and NCV and the fact that everything else was in order" he sighed "It all points to Guillain-Barré."

"Guillain-Barré" Mark gasped "Of course, of course" he held his palm to his forehead, scolding himself for not making the diagnosis. Then the realisation hit him; his son had Guillain-Barré syndrome.

"Mark, I've only diagnosed a handful of cases in my whole career and I'm meant to be a specialist, you couldn't have known. I'm going to suggest we start plasmapheresis as soon as possible. Mark, Mark"

Mark looked up quickly, focusing intently on Arnie's words now. "Yes, go on" he requested.

"What I'm most worried about" Arnie continued "is what Steve's reaction will be if we go in there and give it a name. You know how people are with the '_C_' word for example, mention cancer and they don't hear the statistics you give them, they're already sure it's the end of the road. Most of my patients would never have heard of the condition but I know Steve is already familiar with it from Kate Delieb's trial. That's why I asked you out here. Any ideas on how I should handle it, or would you like to tell him yourself?"

Mark didn't hesitate "I'll tell him"

"OK, do you want me there? I can be if you want or I can go and get the plasma exchange set up, call in on Steve later to answer any questions he may have."

"You go and do what you need to, I'll talk to Steve, and Amanda and Jesse will be there to help me out." With that Mark took a deep breath and headed back towards Steve's room. Masters and Reynolds leant on opposite walls further down the corridor now, Cheryl sat on a chair just outside Steve's room and with a nod of the head Mark beckoned her inside with him.

Steve smiled seeing them both walk in and he restrained himself from asking the obvious question. Mark shot serious looks at both Amanda and Jesse.

"Do you want us to go?" Jesse asked, the question directed towards both Steve and Mark.

"No, you might as well all be here, save telling the details over" Steve sighed.

Mark poised himself and started to speak, his tone pitched somewhere between physician and father. "Now Steve, all the results are back and Arnie, Dr Jones, has been able to make a diagnosis. The good news is we've caught this early, Arnie's arranging for you're first course of treatment as we speak, and there's a good chance that you'll make a full recovery."

Steve nodded weakly in understanding and waited for his father to expand on the information.

"As you know the EMG and NCV indicated that your nerves aren't receiving signals as they should. Sometimes the body gets confused, and instead of fighting an infection for example, it turns on the nerves." He paused, wondering if Steve may remember the details of Kate Delieb's trial and make the connection himself.

"Is that like multiple sclerosis?" Steve asked anxiously

"Not quite" his father tried to explain "and in MS the effects would be much more gradual than this."

"So what's wrong with me?" Steve asked impatiently

"The lumbar puncture showed raised protein levels…"

"Dad" Steve snapped.

Mark realised he could put it off no longer. "I want you to remember what I said Steve, the prognosis is good OK?" Mark took a gulp off air. "Steve, we believe you have Guillain-Barré syndrome" he paused expectantly. "I know what you're thinking" he added hurriedly "but you have to understand Steve, in a man your age and given your medical record there is a very good chance that you'll make a full recovery."

Steve desperately wanted to believe him.

"I know you're probably a little scared given by what you saw and heard about David Goodman during Kate Delieb's trial."

Steve wanted to nod but couldn't, wanted to scream but he couldn't seem to open his mouth. Instead he scrunched his eyes tightly closed for a minute. All he wanted to do was shut this awful reality out.

Mark stepped closer and laid a hand on Steve's arm. "The first step in your treatment is a plasma exchange, I know this is all a shock right now but Arnie's checking the set up, when it's ready they'll arrange for somebody to transfer you. Once it's underway Arnie will be on hand for any questions you have, until then you can ask us anything you want to." Mark looked up at Jesse and Amanda who were both nodding sympathetically.

"Your dad's right" Amanda said soothingly, seeing Steve's distress "starting treatment so quickly is really beneficial, it could make a big difference."

"I could still end up like David Goodman though" Mark shook his head defiantly but Steve continued "only communicating by blinking, having to hope somebody puts me out of my misery."

"No, Steve, David Goodman was a very rare case. The Guillain-Barré was very severe and he was in a tiny percentage of people who get a reoccurrence" Mark reasoned.

"But from what I understood the onset of Guillain-Barré was rarely as rapid as this."

"That's true" Jesse butted in "but rapid onset doesn't mean the final prognosis is necessarily anymore severe."

"On the contrary" Amanda tried to reassure him "if this had crept up on you over a few weeks instead of a few days, it would have taken longer for anybody to take it seriously, diagnosis would have been much slower. This way you get treated fast, honestly Steve, the effects of this condition are extremely variable, you can't compare yourself to any other case."

Cheryl wrapped he arms tightly around herself and half-turned away from Steve. His eyes flicked across the room to her, and he realised she didn't understand the condition like he did. She must have a thousand questions he thought, and no doubt this medical jargon was as frightening for her as it often was for him. 

"Cheryl?" he croaked. She turned to face him but didn't reply. "Could you and Jesse go and explain this to Masters and that jerk Reynolds. I don't want to be going through it all with them, besides, as soon as they know it isn't voodoo they'll probably be out of here like a shot."

Despite his dismissive tone everybody in the room knew what he was trying to achieve. Jesse and Cheryl silently left, and before they could shut the door behind themselves Amanda made her excuse to follow. "I'll just go and check in with my babysitter, be back soon."

As the door closed both Mark and Steve smiled at the way the room had emptied so quickly.

"So tell me Dr Sloan" Steve began half mocking "Just how much is this plasma exchange going to hurt?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

The nurse finished taking Steve's blood pressure, smiled and moved to the bottom of his bed where she wrote in his chart. Cheryl sat in a chair at Steve's side, the nurse replaced the chart and took her place back at a desk near the door. Blood filled tubes from both of Steve's arms led to a machine which whirred gently at his bedside. 

"Want me to continue?" Dr Jones asked from his seat opposite Cheryl.

"Please" Steve replied.

"Plasma is the liquid part of your blood that carries your blood cells, it also carries nutrients and minerals to your organs." He spoke slowly and clearly, making sure Steve understood as much as possible about his condition and treatment. "When you get an infection, in your case probably that throat infection a couple of weeks back, your body produces antibodies to fight it. Those antibodies are contained in the plasma too. In Guillain-Barré the antibodies get confused or malfunction, and instead of fighting the infection, they turn against the myelin sheath which protects the nerves. That's why you've been losing strength and sensation, and that's what the test's we did earlier were for."

"And removing the plasma removes the antibodies?" Steve asked.

"Pretty much" Dr Jones continued pointing to the machine. "The plasma is removed from your blood and replaced with a solution made up of the salts and proteins your body needs."

"So this process stops the condition getting any worse?"

Dr Jones paused "In theory that's true, and that's why we wanted to start you off as soon as possible. But" he smiled recognising Steve's apprehension. "But" he continued "I don't want to mislead you Steve. Just because we've started doesn't mean this thing will miraculously stop in it's tracks. I'm going to recommend a daily plasma exchange for the next few days, see how you go. To be perfectly honest though, you can expect to get worse before you get better, I know that's a cliché but it's true." He let the information sink in before continuing.

"The good news is that the statistics are very promising, there is every chance you'll make a full recovery. It's gonna take time, it's going to be frustrating and scary, but you have your father, and your friends around you" he smiled at Cheryl. "Each exchange will take about two and a half hours" he checked his watch "so you've about another two hours left here. Are you comfortable?"

Steve smiled in response.

"Good. The nurse here will be with you 'til you're finished, she'll keep monitoring your blood pressure and pulse and when you are done she'll take a blood sample to compare to the one we took earlier."

"You're taking so much of my blood today I'm surprised there is any left to clean" Steve joked.

"Yeah, I bet you've had better days. Do you have any more questions before I go?"

"Will I be able to work again after this?"

"It's early days Steve, that all depends on your recovery"

"How long until you can give me an answer"

"Again that depends on how you respond to the treatment."

Steve sighed in frustration.

"OK" Dr Jones conceded "I can tell you this much. The condition does follow one set pattern, it always reaches it's maximum severity within four to six weeks. After that time it stabilises and in most cases begins to recede within the following weeks. At that point we'll asses you fully and then I promise you I'll be able to provide you with information, if not answers to your questions." 

Dr Jones stood and pushed one of his hands down into his trouser pockets. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow" he glanced at his watch and rubbed his eyes "make that this afternoon. If you need anything just ask the nurse here."

"Thank you" Cheryl and Steve murmured in unison as Dr Jones left the room. Cheryl yawned and Steve's eyes flickered from her face to the small window. The sky was pastel blue in the early morning light. "You can blame me when Masters gets on your back about falling asleep on the job today" he quipped.

"Last I looked he was still waiting outside to talk to you" she informed him.

"You explained to him it was nothing to do with our voodoo guy?"

Cheryl nodded. "Want me to get rid of him?"

"No, I'll talk to him, it's not like I can go anywhere else" his eyes shot to one of the tubes protruding from his forearm. Cheryl stroked the back of his hand and walked to the door. Moments later she appeared with Masters and Reynolds in tow. The nurse spoke to them in hushed tones and after a brief exchange Reynolds reluctantly left the room. Cheryl crossed the floor and stood by the window as Masters towered over the bed where Steve lay.

"How you doing Sloan?" he asked gruffly.

"I have no idea" he replied wearily.

Masters looked around the room nervously. For a man who'd spent all night trying to speak to somebody he seemed to have little to say. Just as Steve was about to break the silence Masters started.

"I talked to your friend, Jesse for a while earlier. He explained about your condition, that it's natural so to speak. It's got nothing to do with this psycho right". Steve couldn't tell if it was meant as a question or a statement. "Listen Sloan" Masters continued "I appreciate you're unwell right now, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm here to ask that you keep this quiet for the time being".

"Oh shucks" Steve replied sarcastically "and here was me about to run out in the street and tell the world".

Masters shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked down at his shoes then let his gaze meet Steve's. "I'm sorry if I'm not putting myself across very well, let me explain. We have a delusional murderer out there, thinks he has the power to kill people with magic. He threatened you, and Banks" he pointed to where Cheryl stood by the window "and now you wind up in hospital. We've already talked about the security of information in this case. If he finds out about your….situation…it could fuel his fantasy, and it could put you in jeopardy."

Cheryl spun around, but Masters hadn't said anything that she and Steve didn't know already. "The only people who know about this so far are the medical staff here and the three of us. I'd prefer it if this information doesn't get back to the station or to the press."

"Fine by me" Steve looked at Cheryl who nodded her agreement.

Masters nodded towards Cheryl "Take the morning off" then looking at Steve "and you take care, I'll be back in and I'm sure Banks will keep me up to date with how you're doing. If you need anything, you know where I am". He patted Steve's shoulder before leaving the room.

"You should go and get settled in to the beach house" Steve commented as Cheryl sat back in the chair by his bed. She reached out and held his fingers gently, her thumb drawing circles on his palm.

"This has been one crazy night" she whispered, looking at the hand she held in her own. Steve watched her quietly and smiled at the tenderness of the touch he couldn't feel. Her eyes flicked upwards and locked into his gaze "are you feeling OK?"

"I barely feel a thing" he smirked.

"I mean in there" she tapped a finger on his temple.

He thought for a moment, then smiling began "tired, confused, tired, anxious, tired, tired hungry" he paused "did I mention tired?"

"I can take a hint, I'll go and hit the sack for a while. Want anything before I go?"

"If you see dad try and make sure he gets some rest"

"OK, I'll call back before work"

"No need"

"I want to" Cheryl squeezed his fingers tightly and pushed her face close to his. "I'll see you later" she whispered and lightly kissed his cheek. Steve couldn't reply as the haze of sleep began to wash over him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Amanda poked her head into the doctor's lounge where Mark sat alone at the table. "Hey, I'm just on my way down to see Steve, how are you doing today?"

"Oh I'm fine" the old man replied. His eyes fixed on Amanda "can I ask a favour?" Amanda pulled up a chair beside her friend. "I was wondering if you could have a word to Steve for me. These last few days have been so hectic, sorting out his treatment and going over his condition with him."

"He's doing OK with the plasma exchanges isn't he?"

"Yeah, they're taking their toll, he's quite tired but he knows it's for his own good. But he's been in here four days now and we both know how Steve is when he's unwell. He doesn't handle being out of action too good and I'm just worried about the stress, the mental aspects of the condition you know?"

"Of course, but any patient with a serious or incapacitating condition is offered counselling…"

Mark waved a hand to interrupt her "Arnie has explained that to Steve and offered to have somebody go talk to him but he refused. I hate to ask you to do this but could you try and persuade him it's in his own best interest to talk to someone?"

Amanda thought for a moment.

"I know he opened up to you before" Mark continued "when he was having those terrible nightmares"

"Dr Keller" Amanda smiled "Steve seems to rate the whole mental health profession along with sewer rats, but he made progress with Dr Keller."

"Of course, good thinking Amanda" Mark beamed.

"Want me to suggest contacting him?"

"If you could that would be great"

"OK, I'll go down there now" she gave an encouraging smile. "Oh, before I go, any changes in his condition I should know about?"

Mark grimaced "he's still very weak, they're trying to keep him moving his hands and feet as much as possible. He can't walk though so he's in bed or propped up in the chair most of the day."

"Can he support his head?"

"At the moment though they're using pillows to help, he's still leaning to one side a lot. He started asking about pain relief this morning though he claimed that it was a hypothetical question. But you know Steve, he's quite possibly in pain without letting on."

"I'll go and talk to him and report back later"

"Thanks Amanda" Mark called as his young colleague left the room.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve was sitting up in bed when Amanda entered the room.

"Hey you" she called softly.

Steve smiled back and cast his eyes to the chair beside him as an invitation for her to sit down.

"How was the plasma exchange today?"

"Fine, I don't feel a thing while it's happening" a guilty grin spread across his face. "Well today there was a little discomfort to tell the truth." Amanda looked puzzled "I asked the nurse if we could have the radio on to deaden the silence." Steve rolled his eyes "two hours of non-stop John Denver classics!"

"OK, apart from John Denver overdose how are you doing?"

"I feel tired" he paused "and useless." Amanda waited for him to continue. "Cheryl and Masters have both been in, this jerk sent more of his stupid photos. I don't like thinking of dad and Cheryl in that house."

"They can look after themselves, you just have to concentrate on doing as the doctors tell you."

"But I worry about them, and it's so frustrating. For God's sake the guy could walk in here and do a naked war dance in front of me then turn around and walk out. I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop him!"

"Frustrated, scared" she nodded understandingly "I guess this is all stuff your stress counsellor is talking you through?"

Steve gritted his teeth "you know I'm not seeing any counsellor" he spat.

Amanda faked surprise "You aren't? Well maybe you should be, maybe these are exactly the emotions and fears you need to discuss with somebody before they start causing you problems."

A tense silence filled the room. Amanda placed a hand on Steve's arm but he didn't notice. "I've said it before Steve and I'll say it again. I am here for you, I care about you _so_ much, and if you ever need me you just have to call. But there are people better qualified to talk to you than I am." She paused before taking the matter further. "Once you got used to talking to Dr Keller you didn't find it so hard did you?"

Steve didn't answer.

"This is your decision Steve, you have your friends around you to help you through this but if you want me to call…"

"Not now" he interrupted, but there was no anger in his voice. He drew a long breath "I know you're right, dad's right, everyone is right. But I've got a lot of time on my hands for thinking right now. Just let me think about it for a while, and if I decide to talk to anybody then I think Dr Keller would be an appropriate choice."

Amanda tried to hide her smugness. "Now we've got that sorted" she whispered "tell me all about you and Detective Banks."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Jesse wandered slowly from the beach up towards the Sloan's beach house. He reached the deck and called out through the open doors "Anyone home?"

"Just me" Cheryl replied "Mark's at the hospital"

"Mind if I come in?" Jesse asked.

Cheryl smiled and the pair sat down together at the kitchen table. After a few minutes of small talk Jesse decided to get to the point of his visit.

"I know this is gonna sound a little bit odd, and don't take this the wrong way, I know you are a very competent police officer…."

"But?" Cheryl prompted.

"Usually, well I mean sometimes, often…."

Cheryl tried hard to suppress a laugh and Jesse realised he wasn't really coming to the point after all. He grinned and began again.

"When Steve is working a difficult case, or he just wants to go over details with somebody, he usually turns to Mark," he paused "and me" then added hastily "and Amanda too." He smiled bashfully. "So, if there was anything you needed help with, or just to talk about the case, I wanted you to know that I don't mind if you…er…you know…come to me".

"Thanks Jesse" Cheryl smiled, genuinely touched by his offer. "I know Steve values your help a lot."

Jesse beamed from ear to ear at the compliment he'd waited eagerly to hear. 

"It is difficult with such a high profile case, not being able to discuss it freely at the station, with colleagues. Steve is still showing an interest but he seems to be getting more and more tired each day, I don't want to add to his worries".

Jesse nodded his agreement "I know Amanda had a chat with him a few days ago, he's tired but responding reasonably well. Mark on the other hand is tired and not responding to any advice at all!"

"I know, I've barely seen him here since I moved in"

"But you've hardly been getting as much rest as you should either" Jesse reminded her, falling back into doctor mode.

"I guess we are all guilty of that. But what can we do?" Cheryl shrugged "we all care for Steve and we want to be there for him".

Cheryl's pager beeped loudly, looking down at it she raised her eyebrows and reached for the phone.

"I'll leave you to it" Jesse called heading back out onto the deck. He glanced up at the waves crashing in, then down to his watch. *Night shift in an hour, great* he thought to himself. He was about to step down onto the sand as he heard Cheryl shout from behind him;

"Jesse hang on" she called breathlessly, "there's been another murder."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Steve's eyes shot open as his father burst into the room. Mark spun around to look up at the TV mounted high in the corner of the room and Steve could see his relief when he was presented with nothing on the screen other than a pair of TV chefs.

"Worried you were missing Star Trek?" Steve joked, though he sensed there was a more serious reason for the visit.

"Ah, no, no, nothing, it's OK" Mark huffed.

"C'mon dad, what am I missing?" Steve raised his eyebrows. When Mark didn't answer Steve continued "This isn't fair dad, you know I can't press the damn buttons on the control anymore, do you want to tell me what I'm missing or do I have to get the nurse to come in and channel surf for me?"

Mark sat on the edge of the bed "there's been another murder"

"Ah God, where's Cheryl?" Steve asked frantically. Mark tried to work out if Steve's breath was ragged or if his voice was just laced with concern. "Dad" Steve snapped "can you call Cheryl?"

"Her mobile's off." Mark massaged his brow. Steve began to pant and Mark recognised what could be the start of a panic attack. "Steve, Steve" he began soothingly "Cheryl is probably working the case, there is nothing we can do except wait." Steve's breathing didn't soften "Steve, listen to me, I want you to take deep, regular breaths" he waited a moment then prompted "c'mon, deep and regular, in through your nose, out through your mouth".

Steve followed his father's orders, again smiling inwardly at the pre-natal class image. When he'd relaxed a little he began with a barrage of questions "Where was it? What are they saying about the victim? Do they have him, anything on him?"

"Steve I really don't know any details just…."

"Put a news channel on" Steve demanded "those damn vultures are bound to be there"

Mark found the remote control on the bedside cabinet and flicked through the channels, stopping when he found a station carrying the story. The wavy haired reporter in a cheap suit stood behind the police cordon, Mark turned up the volume and the pair joined the man mid sentence.

"…according to neighbours. Another witness has told of shouting, two _possibly three_ people arguing with the victim in or around this property on _numerous_ occasions prior to this evening, and I quote "You hear it all the time, they're screaming and shouting at each other. I didn't think tonight was any different, and then I heard the sirens". To recap, a woman, believed to be the owner of this house on Phillip Drive, was found stabbed to death earlier this evening, LAPD are holding two men for questioning. Although the woman was stabbed, detectives at the scene are playing down any links to the recent 'voodoo killings'. Now back to Roger in the studio".

Mark turned the volume down and turned to Steve, "We might be worrying about nothing here"

"Sounds like a domestic" Steve agreed "but if it was our guy the LAPD would be keen to keep it quiet, play down any links."

The door creaked open and Cheryl appeared shyly in the doorway "I can come back" she offered on seeing Mark.

"Not at all, come in" he smiled in relief, standing up to greet her. Her eyes flicked to the TV, a still of the crime scene sitting above the anchorman's left shoulder.

"What's the story?" Steve asked

"Gruesome, but not our guy" she replied still staring at the TV. She snapped out of her apparent trance and turned to Steve. "I thought Jesse would have told you"

"I haven't seen him", Steve snapped, angry that his young friend could fail to tell him something like this.

"Well" she continued "middle aged woman, we've got her husband and brother-in-law in custody. Some drug thing going on, probably they were using her place and she got sick, wanted a better cut or out all together. Seems things got pretty heated which is nothing new for the family, they've all got records as long as your arm. But when the guys in uniform saw the place they thought they'd better give us a call, it's standard on all stabbing cases now."

Steve managed half a smile, he'd been in hospital hardly anytime but he felt so out of touch with the investigation. Mark took the pause in the conversation as a chance to make a diplomatic exit. When he was gone Cheryl pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down. "How are you today?"

"OK" Steve lied. The pair sat in silence for a while.

"I guess you're probably tired after the plasma exchange?"

"I didn't have one today, they thought I needed a break, I'm going to switch to every other day instead".

Cheryl wasn't sure if there were any implications with that decision but decided not to pry. The silence crept up on them again, but within a few minutes a conversation sparked, centred mainly on their mutual contempt for crime scene reporters. Though she enjoyed spending time like this with Steve she was concerned that heated monologues on the press would tire him out and so she let the discussion slowly die. 

She could see Steve's deterioration though it had been less than twenty-four hours since her last visit. He had lost all feeling in his hands and arms now and wasn't even strong enough to sit up in the chair. Instead he was reclining on the bed, his head hanging heavily to the left, resting on a small cushion on his shoulder. He screwed his eyes up tightly and attempted to raise it a little, Cheryl shot him a worried glance. As she did Steve's head left the cushion but he soon found himself with his chin drooped down onto his chest.

"Damn it" he muttered.

"Here" Cheryl stood up and cradled his head in her hands. Unsure what to do next she looked towards the door "I'll be right back"

"No" but Steve's protests were too late. A moment later Cheryl returned with a nurse.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"It's OK, you did the right thing" Mark assured her as they stood outside Steve's room.

"When they said he'd be better off fully lying down he seemed pretty angry at me, I mean he just flipped Mark. I don't want to go back in there and upset him. I've been doing enough of that lately."

"It's not your fault, and the way Steve is, he _is_ better off lying down. It was just a matter of time, he'll understand that."

"All done" the last nurse called as she left Steve's room "Dr Jones will stop by first thing in the morning".

"Thanks Rachel" Mark replied. Cheryl wrapped her arms around herself as Mark coaxed her into the room with him. Steve was now lying almost flat out on the bed.

"Comfortable?" Mark asked his son, but Steve didn't reply. "You knew if your neck got any weaker it was this or a neck brace, you really are better off…"

"Lying down" finished Steve. He cast his eyes across to Cheryl. Seeing the contemptible look on his face she turned and brushed past Mark.

"Is that what you want?" Mark demanded gruffly when Cheryl was out of earshot. "Steve?"

"What?"

"To upset Cheryl, to drive her away like this?"

"No"

"OK, then you'd better buck your ideas up." Mark paused. "I don't pretend to know how hard it is for you to be lying there, but I know how hard it is to see you like this. She cares about you Steve, colleague, friend, I don't know what. But any way you look at it, Cheryl needs and deserves your support and understanding as much as you need and deserve hers."

"Lecture over?" Steve shouted.

"I'm done, you got anything to say?" Mark answered back just as angrily.

"Do you like her?" Steve whispered

"Cheryl?" Mark was thrown by the change of direction

"Of course Cheryl"

"Yes, I like her. She's friendly, humorous, intelligent" Mark smiled inwardly as he saw the grin beginning on Steve's face. "Beautiful" he pushed "attractive".

"OK that's enough" Steve joked.

"I like her a lot, though, I'm guessing, not as much as you do?"

"Two detectives in the family" Steve smiled.

"Are you two…., I mean, what exactly is the situation with you two?"

"The situation is none of your business"

"Oh" Mark knew when he'd pushed too far.

"Seriously, I don't know what's going on dad" Steve paused. "Everything seems so hopeless right now. The investigation's a screw up, Cheryl's stressed, Master's is hacked off, neither of them want to bother me with the details so I'm left lying here like a fifth wheel. Cheryl stops by every day" Steve smiled and his tone softened "I just love talking to her, even if there isn't much to say you know?"

"I know" Mark nodded, trying to conceal a smile.

"But these last few days, I don't know what's got into me. I feel so tired and when she's here I end up saying the wrong things. Yesterday I…."

"What?"

"Yesterday Cheryl was giving me a drink and I dribbled some. Dad, it's so stupid but I couldn't stop myself, I shouted her out. When you came in today, that look on your face then you said there'd been another murder I just thought…." Steve couldn't finish the sentence.

"You thought _'What if?'_"

"Exactly. This lack of sensation, this stupid, useless body I'm stuck in. What if something happened to Cheryl? What if she needed me and I couldn't do anything to help her? Dad, what if something happened to her and the last thing she thinks of me is what a jerk I was, screaming at her over some spilt water?"

Mark waited for a moment then spoke slowly and calmly. "When I first met your mother she was dating somebody else you know. I thought long and hard about what I should do, if I should do anything at all. And then I thought to myself _"What if we die tomorrow and she never knows how I feel?"_. Does that ring a bell?"

"I'm lying here thinking, _what if we live forever and I never tell her how I feel?_"

"In my experience" Mark said as he stood "the only regrets I've got aren't over mistakes I _have_ made, they're over things I _haven't_ done, words I _haven't_ said, places I _haven't _been. Never be afraid to act on your feelings Steve. And just ask yourself, can you live with that "_What if_" inside you forever?

"No" whispered Steve, taken aback by his own honesty, then "dad, can you see if Cheryl's still here?"

"Time to tell her how you feel?" Mark enquired, feeling brave again.

"I think I'd better start with an apology and see how we go from there."

Mark leant forward and kissed his son on the forehead "I'll go and find her".

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

That night Cheryl stayed at Steve's bedside as the two of them talked into the small hours.

__

Sorry,

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still

Words don't come easily

Like sorry, like sorry

Forgive me, 

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still

Words don't come easily

Like forgive me, forgive me

But you can say baby

Baby can I hold you tonight

Maybe if I told you the right words 

At the right times 

You'd be mine

I love you 

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still 

Words don't come easily

Like I love you, I love you

But you can say baby

Baby can I hold you tonight

Maybe if I told you the right words

At the right times

You'd be mine

Baby can I hold you tonight

Maybe if I told you the right words

At the right times

You'd be mine

You'd be mine

You'd be mine

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

"Where were you this morning?" Jesse chuckled as Mark entered Amanda's lab.

"Who me?" the old man asked, surprised and confused at what his young colleague found so amusing.

"Yeah, you were meant to be at that budget meeting at 9:30, we paged you three times."

"Ah damn it!" Mark shook his head "Arnie wanted to meet with me to discuss Steve's treatment, we went to the coffee shop around the corner. The budget thing totally slipped my mind".

"I'm sure the board members will understand, Steve's health is more important than a meeting" Amanda reassured him. "So what did Arnie have to say?"

"Well" Mark sighed, "Steve's been on his back for a week now, the physio's are in a couple of times a day moving his limbs, making sure they don't stiffen up while he's lying there. Obviously that's important for when the time comes for Steve to get up and get moving again."

"Any idea when that will be?" Jesse asked hesitantly. 

"It was such a rapid onset, from the mild stiffness to almost total paralysis of the limbs in less than a week. But the plasma exchanges have helped and his deterioration has slowed down considerably. We still aren't out of the woods yet" he sighed "Guillain-Barré reaches a plateau within four to six weeks."

"Steve's at about week three" Amanda added.

Mark nodded "Arnie is worried about the paralysis spreading to his chest and throat. I've been noticing myself these past few days, Steve's breathing is becoming a little laboured."

"Is he thinking about ventilating?" Jesse asked glumly, hoping the answer would be 'no'.

"He's asked me to speak to Steve about it, to prepare him for the fact that it may become necessary if he gets any worse. I'm on my way to see him now, but I promised Cheryl I'd drop by and get those crime scene photos back for her."

"Oh, she was in here about ten minutes ago and picked them up" Amanda replied.

"We couldn't spot anything to help her," Jesse added "but I think she just wanted to be sure."

"Steve's a lot happier knowing we're all helping her out and keeping an eye on her." Mark smiled.

"And knowing she's keeping an eye on us" Amanda winked.

"OK, I'd better get going, I'll see you two later"

"Bye Mark" Amanda and Jesse called together as their friend left the room.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"There's nothing wrong with my breathing" Steve croaked. Cheryl shot him a scolding look.

"Arnie won't put you on a ventilator unless it's absolutely necessary" Mark reassured him.

"And I don't want to be fed through a tube either. I've got to pee through a tube already, isn't that enough?" 

"I know Steve but this isn't about what you _want_. It's about what's necessary. If you have difficulty breathing and swallowing then unfortunately these are steps we'll have to take. I'm telling you this now so that if it does happen you'll be prepared."

"Where would the tube go? This tube I'd be fed through."

Mark paused. "The tube would be either inserted up your nose or directly into your stomach."

Cheryl tried not to wince as Mark then briefly described each procedure.

"And if I go on a ventilator, that'd mean wearing an oxygen mask all the time?"

"Not exactly." Mark really hated having to tell his son all of this but he knew it was best for him to be the one to deliver the news. "If your breathing worsens and you can't swallow, we'll insert a tube in your throat, it's called an endotracheal tube." He demonstrated, pressing the soft hollow of his own neck then waited to gauge his son's reaction. Cheryl covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes dropped to the floor.

"I won't be able to speak?" Steve muttered.

"No, but you'll be able to communicate by….." 

"Don't say blinking dad!" Steve exploded, "don't say communicate by blinking. Dave Goodman could communicate by blinking and he asked Kate Delieb to kill him! You said it was very rare for it to get..…" Steve began to run out of steam and his gasps were audible in the small room. Mark and Cheryl were on their feet now standing over Steve, each laying a comforting hand on him.

"What are you doing?" he shouted incredulously. "I can't feel that! I can't feel you touching me. Don't you realise that you touching me and me not sensing it makes everything seem a million times worse?" They both took their seats again.

"Steve" Mark said in his most calming voice. "You've responded well to treatment. You are young enough and fit enough to stand a good chance of a full recovery." Steve rolled eyes his and let out a strangled cry but let his father continue. "Assisted ventilation and tube feeding still may not be necessary, but you need to be aware that they are possibilities." He paused "and you cannot keep comparing yourself to David Goodman."

"Could you face spending the rest of your life relying on machines, blinking at people?" Steve asked Cheryl. She didn't reply.

"It wouldn't necessarily be permanent, in fact it's highly unlikely. Once you began to show signs of improvement you'd be taken off the machines again" Mark told him.

"What if I got to that point and then I didn't improve?"

"Highly unlikely" Mark shook his head dismissively.

"But what if dad. What if it did happen?"

"I don't know what to tell you" Mark confessed.

"I know it's highly unlikely, but there is a possibility that in a few days time I could find it too hard, and Arnie will put me on machines to breathe for me and to feed me, agreed?"

Mark reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"And there is a chance, a tiny chance statistically speaking, but a chance that I may not improve sufficiently to be removed from those machines."

"There's an 80% chance you'll make a full recovery and walk out of here."

"20% chance I won't" Steve retorted.

"That 20% cover's everything from walking a little stiffly the rest of your life to..…"

"Death?"

"Which only occurs in the elderly, or where other medical factors cause complications."

Cheryl sat silently watching this battle of wills. For every silver lining Mark showed his son, Steve pointed out the looming black cloud.

"I could be on those machines forever dad"

Mark rested his head in his hands. "Worst case scenario, yes, you could be one of the extremely unlucky few. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"If it's the truth then yes." He waited until Mark looked up at him again then thought for a moment. He trusted Cheryl implicitly but he couldn't allow her to be a witness to this. "Cheryl, could you give us a moment?" he asked.

"Sure" she smiled, masking her curiosity as she quietly left the room.

"You know dad," Steve said softly "when my head gets a little cloudy, I usually go for a run, blow the cobwebs off. Y'see, when you run, when you push your body so far it hurts, then your mind just focuses on that pain, nothing else. You can't trick it, can't take it away from those primary instincts. When I want to turn my brain off I run until it hurts." He looked at his father and their eyes met. "I can't turn my brain off in here. I'm trying to stay positive but I want to know all the possibilities, I want to know about worse case scenarios. Because if I end up blinking to communicate then _discussing_ all this stuff is going to get pretty difficult." Mark grimly nodded his understanding. 

Steve took a deep breath then stared intensely at Mark. "Dad, do you know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you in this world?"

"Steve?" Mark asked.

"Ask me and I'd do it, whatever needed to be done I would do for you. If you needed a kidney or bone marrow or whatever, I'd give you mine." Steve swallowed hard "I'd kill somebody if you asked me to" he whispered.

"I don't understand. What's all this about?"

"Would you do the same for me?"

"I can't believe you even need to ask, you're my son, I'd do anything for you!"

"Would you kill if I asked you to?"

"If I had to, if you were in danger, I'd do what I had to, to save you." This line of discussion was becoming more and more confusing to Mark.

"Would you kill somebody if I asked you to dad?"

"What's this about?"

"Would you kill somebody if I asked you to?"

"Steve are you in trouble?"

"If I asked you to kill for me would you do it?" Steve repeated.

Mark looked sternly at his son. "_Kill for you?_" And as he uttered those three words Mark Sloan realised at last what his son was asking him.

"Dad?" Steve whispered, sure now his father was following his own train of thought.

"You can't ask me that!" Mark exclaimed keeping his voice as low as possible. "We sent Kate Delieb to prison for what she did."

"But did we do the right thing? Or did she?" Steve asked. "Kate Delieb helped put people with no hope out of their pain and misery. She said it herself; she was letting people regain control of their lives _and_ their deaths. You questioned whether she wasn't more honest and courageous than you were in your convictions."

"Steve I'm a doctor, I can't…." Mark pleaded.

"You're my father." Steve swallowed hard and tried not to choke on his words. "I couldn't live like that dad, I wouldn't want to live if that's all I had." His eyes bore into Mark's "If all I could do was lie there and blink, and I was never going to get any better, I don't think I'd want to live any more."

Mark stood up "I'm not walking out on this conversation Steve, I want you to know that. But I think we both need to take a bit of time to calm down and think this over."

"Don't be too long" Steve replied sternly "you don't know how long we've got left to talk."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Oh Mark" Amanda held her friend tightly as he recounted the conversation through bursts of sobs. "Ssh, it's OK" she told him.

"I've asked myself that same question time and again, I know most doctors do. When Kate Delieb was convicted I told Steve that maybe what she did wasn't really a crime. I asked myself, if David Goodman had pleaded with me to stop his suffering, what good would my morals and ethics have been to him? What kind of life and death would I have been condemning him to?" 

"Steve is so confused right now Mark, so confused and worried, you know he'd never put you in a position like that."

"Do I? What if I do end up in that position? What do I do if my son asks me to….."

"C'mon, sit down" Amanda guided him towards the chair. "We know Steve is strong, and we know that it's not going to get to that point Mark."

The door flew open and Jesse ran in panting. "MARK!" he exclaimed, pointing down the corridor "Mark it's Steve, you'd better come quick!"

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

The veins on Steve's neck and forehead stuck out like ropes, his face was deep red as he screamed at the woman with the microphone in her hand. "GET OUT, GET OUT" he screamed over and over again. But the reporter had prepared her questions and wasn't going to leave until she'd asked every last one of them. Even as Steve continued to shout over her, desperately straining to lift his head from the pillow, the questions kept coming. In Steve's head they all merged together; "_Lieutenant Sloan did you…………voodoo murderer…….when was the…..how did this happen………carnage committed in those……..family of Genie Anderson…….have the LAPD………why is there no…… Lieutenant Sloan, Lieutenant Sloan, Lieutenant Sloan, ……………Steve, Steve, Steve"_

The voice now belonged to Jesse. He burst into the room, Steve was still screaming as the reporter and cameraman leant tightly over the bed. "What the hell!" Jesse yelled. Grabbing the woman squarely by the shoulders he pulled her backwards away from the bed then pushed her towards the door. She stumbled and fell against the doorframe but Jesse took no notice. His hand flew up across the camera lens that caught for the last time the look of absolute terror and despair on Steve's face.

Amanda stopped the video. She and Jesse sat together in the doctor's lounge watching the tape the hospital security guards had confiscated. Cheryl and Chief Masters had already viewed it and were holding the reporter for questioning. Mark leant silently with his back against the door, staring at the hopeless image of his son on the screen.

"Thank you Jesse" he said.

Jesse shrugged, and Amanda gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Good job he didn't record what I said next, wasn't exactly Disney if you know what I mean."

"Do you want me to rewind it" Amanda asked, but Mark shook his head.

"I just wanted to see it for myself while Steve's still out for the count."

"It took a lot to sedate him the state he was in" Jesse observed.

"I just wish I could have calmed him down when you came and got me"

"It's not your fault Mark" Amanda told him "What that woman did was criminal, evil, harassing somebody in Steve's condition like that. It's no wonder he needed meds to pacify him."

Mark nodded "she probably would have won an award for that interview if we hadn't confiscated the tape, vermin" he spat.

"Want me to go and check on Steve?" Jesse asked.

"No it's OK" Mark replied, waving for Jesse to sit back down. "I'll go and check on him." He paused and looked back at the screen again. Steve's blue eyes were wide with fear as he pleaded with the cameraman to be left alone. "There's something I need to tell son."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Mark sat with Steve as he began to regain lucidity. He'd been placed on a heart monitor and given an oxygen mask due to the panic attack and subsequent medication he'd received. Though Mark knew he couldn't feel it he stroked the back of Steve's hand gently as he spoke. After a few false starts Steve's eyes began to flutter open though he seemed unable to focus.

"Steve can you hear me?" Mark asked softly. "I want you to relax and breathe deeply OK son?"

Steve attempted to speak but his words were slurred and hampered by the mask.

"It's OK, don't try and talk just yet." Mark was worried what conclusions Steve might jump to, finding himself on the monitor and wearing the mask. He began the speech he knew he'd repeat many times until his son had fully regained consciousness.

"Steve, you had a panic attack." He spoke slowly and punctuated each word clearly. "We gave you a sedative to help you relax. The mask is just to help you until you're fully awake. We're monitoring you're heart to make sure you don't have another episode OK?" He paused as Steve's eyes fluttered closed for a few minutes then opened again. "You're going to feel tired and groggy for a while. Just you rest OK; I'm going to sit right here with you until the sedative wears off. When you are awake again we'll take the mask and the monitor away and you'll be able to talk properly."

Steve attempted to speak again and Mark pulled the mask from his face to try and make things easier. "I'm sorry son, I can't understand what you're saying. Just rest now and we'll talk later." Steve released a pleading grunt and focused his eyes as best he could on Marks. "It's OK" Mark reassured him, stroking his hair back from his face. Though still wavering in and out of sleep Steve made a determined effort to stay focussed in his father's line of sight.

Mark couldn't be sure whether Steve was lucid enough to know what he was doing or not. He may have just been like any other drowsy patient waking from a sedative. But Mark had made a momentous decision on seeing his son's terrified face frozen on that TV screen. If Steve was questioning him, then he knew his answer. He looked at his son's face and saw again the anguish he'd seen before, this time transmitted through his expressive blue eyes.

"This isn't the Guillain-Barré Steve" Mark began "this is just a sedative." Even though he seemed to understand, Steve's eyes still pleaded with his father. Mark swallowed hard as he leant towards his son, their faces almost touching. "I love you Steve" he whispered. "You are my only son and there is _nothing_ in the world I wouldn't do for you." He desperately hoped that those words would be enough but the look of suspicion lingered on Steve's face. Mark knew he only had the inner strength to make this promise once. Never again would he be able to admit it, maybe not even to himself. He leant forward and kissed Steve's forehead, staying there for a long while. Pulling back he clenched his jaw and looked Steve straight in the eye. A single tear rolled down each cheek as he slowly nodded his head and whispered to his son "_the answer is yes._"

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I hope you aren't tiring Steve out" Amanda warned CJ as she found him curled up on the side of Steve's bed, a book in his hand.

"Not at all, he's keeping me wide awake actually" Steve informed her.

"Time to go honey" Amanda said.

"Ah mom, we're just getting to a good bit."

"CJ, _all_ the bits are good bits according to you."

"And I agree" Steve smiled "I think I could use this Harry Potter kid around here myself, he sounds like he knows how to get things sorted."

CJ grinned as he climbed down. "Y'see Steve likes me reading to him, can't I stay a little longer?"

"It's fine by me" Steve assured her casually.

Amanda's smiled slipped and she nodded towards the door. "Steve, you have another visitor actually, Dr Keller is here to see you."

"There was a doctor here just in a minute ago" CJ observed, "and Steve didn't get any worse since he left."

"This is a different kind of doctor" Steve told him, forcing back a smile at the youthful leap in logic.

"What kind of doctor?"

"CJ, time to go" Amanda repeated.

"It's OK Amanda" Steve said gently, then addressing CJ. "Dr Keller is the kind of doctor who talks to people."

"What do you talk about, do you talk about books and stuff?"

"Oh we talk about lots of things, but especially about what it's like to feel sick, how it can sometimes make you scared or unhappy."

"Are you unhappy?"

Amanda stood back watching her friend and her precious little boy have this very simple yet grown up conversation.

Steve continued. "Well I'm not unhappy today, because you've been keeping me company. But sometimes I wish I could go outside for a walk, or to swim at the beach, and when I remember that I can't it makes me a little bit sad." 

"And what are you scared of?"

"Hmmm, that's a little bit tougher to explain." He paused "so that's why Dr Keller is here, to help me figure it out."

CJ screwed up his face in concentration. Putting his book on the table he knelt on the chair by Steve's bed and whispered into his ear "sometimes if I'm scared at night mom lets me leave the light on."

"I'll remember that" Steve smiled as Amanda tried to suppress a giggle. "Thanks for stopping by."

CJ leant further forward and kissed Steve on the cheek. "Can I come back tomorrow?" he asked excitedly as Amanda lifted him from the chair and hustled him towards the door.

"You can comeback as soon as you like, as long as you promise not to read on without me."

"I promise" came the reply from the corridor.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve talked freely to Dr Keller; he had, he thought to himself, little choice. He was a captive audience that was certain, but the relief of talking to somebody other than his father or his friends was a welcome one. 

It had been two days since the news reporter had stormed his room and whenever he was left alone he could still feel his anxiety increase. Chief Masters had realised just how vulnerable Steve was when he'd visited the previous day, and had agreed to post an officer outside the room around the clock. If a reporter had figured out where Steve was then the murderer was certainly capable of doing the same.

Dr Keller had started his session with relaxation techniques which Steve found highly beneficial. He'd encouraged Steve to try self-hypnosis but it seemed his personality and present state of mind weren't receptive enough for them to make any real progress. Despite Dr Keller's assurances Steve secretly feared releasing any hold over his mind now that his body was so far from his control. 

Dr Keller let Steve instigate the conversation, and it quickly turned to reoccurring nightmares, which was, coincidentally, what led the two men to meet the previous year. As often seemed to be the case with Steve, his nightmares were distorted action replays of events from his past.

"I know where this one comes from, this dream." Steve began "it was the first time I was in Vietnam, I was walking into this clearing. There were two bodies, two of our guys. They were lying on their sides, facing each other, I don't know how to explain it." Steve grimaced in frustration. He'd never realised how much he used his hands to help express himself in conversations before. He continued, searching for the best words to illustrate what he was thinking. "It was kind of the reverse of the foetal position I guess. They'd been bound, hands and feet behind their backs, the whole lot attached to a sort of noose around their necks. It was pretty common practice in the prison camps, heard a lot about it after that, but that was the only time I saw it myself."

Steve seemed to squint at the wall opposite him, as if drawing clarity on the image in his mind. His voice was steady, with no sign of distress or fear as he continued his story.

"I looked down at them; the guy on the left was a skinny kid, reddish hair, pointy features. His mouth was open, as if he was still gasping for air and his eyes were rolled all the way back. I thought you could see the fear on his face still." He paused. "The one on the right was probably the same height but looked a little older, and much bulkier, looked like he could have wrestled in school, something like that. But his face, it was a different story all together. His eyes were still open too, but he was looking right at the other guy. And he had these lines on his brow, like he was really concentrating on something. The skinny kid seemed all weak, all limp, but the guy on the right, it was like every muscle was still primed and ready to react as he lay there."

Steve directed his gaze towards Dr Keller. "And it's stupid you know, to draw any conclusions from that, after all I just found them lying there, didn't know them from Adam. But I looked at them and it was like I somehow knew what had happened. And now it seems the scene I imagined then has become my nightmare now."

"Do you want to tell me what you dream, or what you imagined?"

"I imagined them being tied up and left there, lying there looking at each other, knowing they couldn't move. And I imagined the skinny kid starting to panic, starting to thrash around a little, so the noose starts to tighten and he panics all the more." Steve's speech became more rapid, "but the more he panics the tighter the noose gets until he flinches that final time and that's it. He gasps for that final breath of air but it's not there and then his eyes roll back and it's all over. He's left there, looking all scared and his body's all deflated. And during it all, his buddy's lying opposite him, never moving an inch. I thought about him lying there, looking at this skinny kid with his eyes rolled all the way back so there's just these little white mirrors staring back at him. It's him I thought about most, the big guy. I wondered what he did, did he scream at him to calm down and lie still? Or was he too frightened to even do that much? Did he just hold his breath, close his eyes, keep as still as possible?"

Steve looked down at his own incapacitated body. "And I thought about him looking down at his own body. I thought about him feeling the blood in his veins, actually _feeling_ it in there as it flowed through his body. Feeling his skin wrapped around the flesh and muscles. I imagined him lying there for hours, waiting patiently, praying he'd be found. And I thought about him testing the waters, flexing a muscle ever so slightly just to feel the noose tighten."

He paused and replayed the scene he'd created in his own mind again. "I imagined he'd laid there patiently for hours, but he was exhausted, and he looks over at the white eyes in the darkness. And he thinks to himself, _'what happens if I fall asleep and then I have a nightmare, or I wake suddenly and forget where I am, or flinch? What if it happens, and I don't even know about it?_' And he looks down at his body, and he can feel the blood in his veins but he's been so still for so long he really thinks he might be paralysed. Like some self-defence mechanism in his body has cut the power to stop him from hurting himself. But he knows, _he knows_ his body is strong, that he has muscles in his arms and legs that can still kick and punch. And that's how I imagined it, that the look on his face was determination, and that every muscle in his body _was _still primed, ready to spring into action again. He looked at his friend and he thought _'not me, I can do this, I can do this'._ I thought what I'd do in that situation, looking down at my body, knowing that it was at my command, and never mind if it was suicide, I'd do it like he did. One final burst, knowing it's futile, but futile being better than the alternative of lying there, paralysed by fear."

When he was sure Steve had finished Dr Keller asked "In your dreams, do you see the scene _exactly_ as you do when you're awake?"

Steve thought for a moment. "Not _exactly_ the same."

Dr Keller nodded "When you are awake, you can physically picture the two men, you remember seeing them lying together?"

"That's right"

"And when you dream what do you see?"

"I only see the skinny kid with the rolled back eyes"

There was a silence; although Steve followed the train of thought he still needed prompting. "Where's the other guy Steve?" Steve thought about it but didn't answer. "The other guy, the one who knows that he's strong but that it'll do him no good?"

"In my dreams, I think that guy is me" Steve confessed. 

"And that's how you feel now?" Dr Keller asked gently. 

"I can feel the blood, I know my body is at my command, that I can still kick and punch but…." He had to clear his throat a couple of times before he whispered tightly " …._but I'm paralysed_."

"Yes you are" Dr Keller nodded slowly, knowing Steve's admittance and his confirmation marked an important point in Steve's progress.

"And I'm scared" he continued without prompting, "really scared of just lying here forever waiting for somebody to untie me." The strength in his voice began to leave him as he added, "I'd do it now, if I could. To hell with the consequences, I'd give anything if I could just let my muscles explode that one last time."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Story time's over for today is it CJ?" Mark asked as the young boy sat in the doctor's lounge. He moved to the corner and pored himself a coffee, holding it up to Amanda but she shook her head 'no'.

"Steve had to talk to his other doctor about what makes him scared" CJ replied in a matter of fact tone.

"Oh I see" Mark replied, a little taken aback. He sat the coffee-pot down and sipped the bitter liquid, his face revealing just how bad it was.

"Sweety, can you wait there while I talk to Mark for a moment?" Amanda asked, running a hand across the young boys head.

"Sure" he replied, never once moving his eyes from the TV set in the corner of the room.

"What is it?" Mark asked as Amanda led him out of the room.

"I know it's maybe not any of my business Mark" she started "but I was just wondering about that thing with Steve."

"Thing?" Mark asked, plainly thrown by her question.

"Before that bitch of a reporter had her go at Steve the other day, we were talking about, well you know….." she raised an eyebrow.

Marks face hardened. "Amanda, I appreciate your concern but, well I'm not sure if I even should have mentioned it the other day. Steve was upset and I was caught off guard." He hoped she wouldn't realise that he was simply dodging the issue.

"But it's all OK now? I mean as 'OK' as it can be right?"

Mark didn't have to think too long before he answered. Ordinarily he'd never lie to Amanda, but this wasn't an ordinary conversation and there was no way he could tell her about the promise he'd made to his son. "Yes Amanda" he lied "everything is alright now."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Chief Masters and Cheryl were in a huddled conversation as Mark rounded the corner towards Steve's room. The pair looked up at Mark but continued with their discussion. Mark paused outside Steve's door and the two familiar figures walked towards him. 

"Take a break" Masters told the young uniformed officer by the door. "Dr Sloan" he smiled "a word please."

"What is it?" Mark asked, his eyes darting back and forward between the two him and Cheryl.

"There's been another murder, earlier yesterday evening." Masters stated grimly.

Mark looked towards Cheryl and could immediately see the anguish on her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked her and she nodded.

"I'm fine thank you Mark." She looked towards Masters for confirmation before carrying on. "It was our guy for sure, and he left another threat."

"Towards Steve?"

"No, this time the threat was meant for me only" Cheryl shrugged.

"I see." Mark knew by the tension between Cheryl and Masters that there was more to this than met the eye.

"What worries us" Masters continued "Is that he _didn't_ threaten Steve." On Mark's confused look he explained "it implies that he knew Steve wouldn't be investigating."

"He knows Steve is in hospital?" Mark gasped.

"Thanks to that reporter half the world probably knows Steve is here" Cheryl observed grimly.

"Do you think we should move him?" Mark asked.

"No, he'll be fine here. He's got 24hour guard, he's safe." The Chief assured him.

Masters and Cheryl exchanged glances once again. "What else aren't you telling me?" Mark demanded.

"I didn't want to worry you, but I think somebody may have been at the beach house a couple of nights ago" Cheryl confessed.

"When exactly?" Mark implored, wondering why she would keep such a thing from him.

"The night you stayed late to talk about Doctor Keller's visit. When I got back, got out of my car I thought somebody was watching me. I didn't want to over react but now I figure it's not worth taking a risk."

Master added "there'll be an officer outside your place round the clock from now on too."

At that moment Dr Jones joined the group outside Steve's room.

"Have you spoken to him yet Mark?" Dr Jones asked.

"Arnie, not yet, something else has come up. I know you don't want to put this off but let me do this in my own time."

"Mark you know how important this is" the other Dr told him.

"I know Arnie, just give me some time"

"The situation with Steve has…..changed?" Masters asked guardedly as Dr Jones moved off towards another room.

Mark shrugged "Arnie thinks he'd be more comfortable on a ventilator. His breathing is more laboured today but I know how much Steve wants to avoid ventilation. I need to talk to him about it, see if we can work something out."

"Then I don't think we should tell him about the Waters murder" Cheryl said to Masters.

Mark shook his head "Steve won't appreciate being kept in the dark Cheryl, he already feels redundant. I think we should keep him up to date on this."

"As long as you don't think it will set him back any" Masters shrugged.

The uniformed officer returned to the seat by the door with a Styrofoam cup in his hand.

Mark looked at Cheryl "want to come in with me, we can bring our bad tidings together?"

"I tell him about the murder and you tell him about Arnie?" she raised her eyebrows.

"C'mon" Mark smiled, squeezing her arm "there's safety in numbers, we'll tackle him together."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Cheryl stroked a lock of hair back from Steve's brow. His eyes fluttered open for a moment then fell gently closed again. Cheryl smiled at him as he slept, his chest rising and falling with the slightest hint of a struggle. The defensiveness that he proudly displayed like armour slipped from his face in sleep and left in its place the faintest hint of a peaceful smile. Again his eyelids fluttered and then through two tiny slits he looked towards Cheryl.

"You fell asleep" she whispered.

"Mmmm, must have been your scintillating conversation" he smirked.

"Oh, you're so brave when you know I'm not allowed to hit you Sloan" she teased.

"Where's dad?" he asked groggily though his eyes were now fully open.

"He went to tell Dr Jones that, for the moment at least, you've won on the ventilator front."

Steve beamed widely, the relief abundantly obvious. "I know my breathing sounds a little shaky but I do feel fine."

"I believe you, thousands wouldn't" Cheryl commented, whilst beginning to yawn.

"You look like you could use this bed more than me" Steve laughed, then blushed when he realised the faint suggestiveness of the offer.

"Bunch over and I'll climb up there with you" Cheryl grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you taking care of yourself?" he asked solemnly. 

"Yes I am, I promise" she whispered, hearing the heartfelt concern in his voice.

"Want to tell me more about this Emily Waters?"

"Not much more to tell. Same scenario, no immediate leads or links to previous victims. Forty two year old divorcee, ex has a water tight alibi, nice lady, no enemies."

"All the things we detectives hate to hear?" Steve concluded.

"Pretty much."

"And the trinket?" he asked

"None" Cheryl shook her head.

"But the other dolls all had something with them right?"

Cheryl thought about it then counted them off on her fingers "Valerie Shomes money, Genie Andersons bottle top, Katriona Bennets map"

"And now nothing?" Steve screwed his face up as he thought about it.

Cheryl pulled some photos from her pocket. "There's the doll," she said, holding the photos in front of Steve's face. "Just a doll, nothing in it or with it."

"What are the other photos?" he asked.

Cheryl shuffled through them nervously, contemplating whether or not to tell Steve about the threat made against her last night. She decided Mark was right, Steve deserved to be kept up to date.

"We found one of the dolls," she said.

"I know, you said it had nothing with it."

"I mean one of the dolls from the photos, the photos of us that were sent to the station."

"It's a fifty-fifty chance, are you gonna make me guess?" he asked.

"It's me" she smiled holding up the photo. "A little 'me doll' all cut up in pieces" she giggled.

Steve knew it was a nervous laugh "any clues with it?"

"I'm wearing a little watch that the others didn't have" she pointed to a spot on the photo, "maybe he just knows I like to accessorise with fine jewellery, maybe it's something else."

"Such as?"

"Masters thinks maybe he's goading us, the investigation, you know like we are taking too long to stop him, he's too fast for us, something like that." She shook her head "I just can't think straight sometimes."

"I know what you mean. I lie here with my eyes closed, and you'd think it would be easy to switch off, but it's like since my body fell asleep my minds woken up. I shut my eyes and the thoughts keep buzzing around my head, pinging off my eyelids."

"We need a vacation" Cheryl told him as a smile lifted the corners of her lips.

"Great idea, think the department would pay?"

"Sure, where should we go?"

"Hawaii would be good, plenty of surf, you know I've been thinking I really must get out more. I'm turning into a real couch potato these days."

Cheryl and Steve laughed together for a long while, both of them happy to forget reality and their problems. When Mark interrupted them they were talking themselves into cocktails on a moonlight beach.

"Sorry to spoil all the fun" Mark grinned. "I just spoke to Arnie, he didn't like what I told him but he agreed to our terms. You have to promise to let somebody know if you feel short of breath or inhibited in any way by your breathing. You'll be monitored four times a day but as long as there's no further deterioration you can stay as you are."

"Thanks dad, that's great" Steve smiled, then winked towards Cheryl who was now dozing in the chair. "I think our trip wore her out, take her home will you?"

"Cheryl honey, wake up" Mark said softly, squeezing her shoulder. "I'll drive you home."

"Your scintillating conversation" she muttered in Steve's direction.

"Make sure the guys are set up in a sensible spot outside the house when you get there OK?" Steve reminded Cheryl.

"You told him about that?" Mark asked.

"Of course, I keep my partner up to date with all the information in an investigation, isn't that right?" she smiled, pleased to see the crinkle of laughter that remained around Steve's eyes.

"Of course" Steve agreed. "See you later."

"Take it easy with those cocktails" Cheryl warned him as she turned and closed the door.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Mark sat on the deck of the beach house with an empty plate on the table in front of him. The beach below was bustling with people; and old man threw a stick into the surf for his dog to retrieve, two young girls jogged together, and off in the distance a lone surfer struggled to stay upright.

"Penny for them" Cheryl offered as she took a seat next to Mark.

"Oh, I'm sorry Cheryl, I'm miles away," Mark apologised, then looking at his empty plate he added "I didn't know how long you'd sleep so I ate without you."

"That's OK, I'm going to shower and head to the station for a while, I'll get something on my way."

"I've got the afternoon shift, just been grabbing forty winks before I face another day in the mad house."

"Tell Steve I'll stop by, but there's a lot of stuff going on right now so it may be later than usual."

"OK" Mark nodded as he headed into the kitchen. "Enjoy your shower and I hope things go better today."

"Thanks Mark, have a good day."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

When he arrived at the hospital just after lunchtime Mark headed straight up to his son's room. His shift in the ER didn't start for another twenty minutes, leaving just enough time to stop in and see how Steve was doing. As he approached Steve's room he noticed a man at the end of the corridor, seemingly lost.

"Can I help you?" Mark asked politely.

The man turned and faced Mark. He was about 5'5" with short-cropped dark hair and a chubby face. He wore a shirt, open at the neck, with jeans and laced black shoes. Though he was clean-shaven and well dressed there was something shabby looking about him. A small rucksack was slung from his shoulder and Mark guessed his age at being in the early twenties.

He seemed thrown by Mark's question and looked around nervously.

"Are you looking for something?" Mark asked again.

"Yes, yes, I'm looking for something" the young man answered.

Mark looked quizzically at the scratches on the man's hands and wrists. He noticed Mark looking at them and tried to cover them up.

"Nasty scratches" Mark commented.

"Yeah, a cat did them. I was taking photos for my art class and he got a little frisky."

"You here to get those cleaned up?" Mark asked gently.

The man looked at his hands. "Cleaned up? Yes, yes I'm here to get them cleaned up."

"Well you need to go down to the ER" he looked at his watch. "I tell you what, I'll take you down there myself, I'm Dr Sloan, Mark Sloan."

"I'm David Peters, pleased to meet you."

When they reached the ER Jesse was still on shift, and for once the ER was almost empty.

"Jesse, anything you need me for?" Mark asked.

"No, we're OK down here at the minute thanks."

"Just gonna clean this guy up then" Mark signalled towards a spare cubicle. "OK David, just take a seat there on the bed and I'll take a look at these. Nasty scratches, a cat you say?"

"Yeah, a cat, I was working on something for my art class."

"You a student David?"

"Yeah, art and graphic design."

There was a noise behind Mark as the doors flew open. A man with a bloody hand and woman with a black eye burst in accompanied by a paramedic.

"You should have kept your nose out," the man shouted.

"I was helping" the woman screamed back.

Mark couldn't hear the paramedic above the racket but Jesse seemed to have whatever it was taken care of. His young colleague escorted the warring couple towards a cubicle from where their screams could still be heard.

"Domestic's" Mark sighed.

"Don't think he appreciated her help" David laughed.

Mark shook his head, "no, not much."

"Y'know" David continued "there are a lot of people in this world who are here to help us, dedicate their lives to taking care of others, like doctors, fire fighters, the police. People just don't realise the sacrifices others make for them." Mark sat writing on a form, taking little notice as the young man rambled. "Everybody needs somebody sometime. Wasn't that a song?" David chuckled at his own joke. "But then sometimes people are just determined to help you, even when you don't ask for help."

"I've got a couple of questions for you David" Mark interrupted. "David Peters is your full name?"

"Yeah"

"And your address?"

"Apartment 7, Westmoor…. "

The doors behind Mark swung open and a paramedic rushed in.

"Dr Sloan" he shouted "Got multiple GSW here"

"Excuse me David" Mark said, putting down the form.

"Not a problem doc, you've got to do what you've got to do." He paused and shook his head "it's a crazy world, but we've all got to do what we've got to do."

Mark jogged over to meet the gurney as it came through the door. So much for spending some time with Steve he thought to himself as he headed into the trauma room.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"What are you grinning at?" Amanda asked as she entered Steve's room.

"Just pleased to see a friendly face" he replied cheerily.

"One of those days huh?"

"You could say that."

"Mark been giving you a hard time?"

"Not today. He and Cheryl were in first thing this morning but I haven't seen either of them since."

"I know Mark and Jesse have been swamped down in the ER this afternoon."

"And you, life in the Path lab keeping you on your toes?"

"The good thing with my job" she explained "is that none of the people I see are in any hurry to get home for dinner."

Steve laughed at the typically morbid joke. "So are you finished for the day?"

"Yeah, time to go and see my boys. You know CJ is just itching to come back in here and finish that book for you."

"I don't think I'd have sat and read to some old man when I was his age. He's an amazing kid Amanda."

"I know he is, and beautiful like his mother" she flicked her hair and Steve gave a low chuckle. "And for the record Steve Sloan, you are not an old man."

"Felt like it today. Felt like a fossil in fact, being prodded and poked and studied in detail."

"More tests?" Amanda asked with a confused look on her face.

"Not exactly" Steve explained. "Arnie wanted to use me as a teaching case, I must have had twenty med students through here. But I guess that's how you learn right?"

"Nothing like getting your hands on the real thing" Amanda agreed.

"As long as you don't have any trainee Pathologists to let loose on me."

"I don't think you have to worry about that" he assured him. "So, apart from being used as a teaching aide, how are you doing?"

"OK, Dr Keller was here again today." Steve sighed heavily "I don't want to stop seeing him, it'll only freak dad out if I do. But I think a couple of sessions were all I needed, you know? I think I'm starting to get my head around this thing now. Do you think I should keep seeing him?"

"If you really want to stop, if you feel OK with it, then that's up to you. But it can't do any harm to keep on with the sessions can it?"

"I think maybe it can." Steve grimaced, then lowered his voice. "I thought this guy was supposed to help with any concerns I might have. But it's like today he sprung a whole new set of worries on me."

"How do you mean?" Amanda asked, leaning closer.

"He was getting ready to leave and he asked if I minded him discussing my notes with a partner in his practice. He says this guy is writing a paper or something." Amanda nodded. "His study is entitled_ "The psychology of spatially linked phobia's_", or something like that. I think the gist of it is that claustrophobia and agoraphobia aren't about being locked inside a room or made to stand out on an open football field, they're about how you link your own body and mind."

"Sounds….interesting." Amanda smiled.

"Hmmm." Steve didn't sound so sure. "He spieled all this stuff out about how research has shown some people feel a human body is too big proportionate to the size of your brain, like your brain is rattling around in there, I guess they're agoraphobic" he mused. "Then other people feel the opposite, like you're body needs to be bigger to house all these thoughts and emotions and memories."

"The claustrophobic ones" Amanda reasoned. "And what do you think Steve?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I think I've got enough to worry about without getting into whether my head needs to be bigger or my body needs shrunk or whatever." Amanda giggled and Steve continued. "I also think that I was wrong last week when I told you hospital food couldn't get any worse; _it has_. And they've started blending it down a little for me, and I'm on those lousy protein shakes. And as if that isn't bad enough I've had a itchy nose for a half hour now, would you mind?"

"It's the least I can do." Amanda lent forward and scratched Steve's nose. "Better?"

"Much better thank you. And thanks for letting me moan about all that stuff. I'd best let you get home to those boys of yours."

"OK, I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed Steve on the cheek then wiped the spot with her finger. "Don't want Cheryl finding you with lipstick traces" she teased.

Steve blushed, "Very funny. Now get out of here."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Thank God that shift's over" Jesse moaned as he sunk into the chair.

"Spare a thought for those of us who still have two hours left" Mark replied. "And it's your own fault, every time you say we're having a quiet day or that everything is under control, that's when the bodies come flooding in."

"Guilty as charged," Jesse admitted. "You going up to see Steve now?". He waited a while but Mark didn't reply. "Hey Mark."

"Huh? Sorry Jesse, I was miles away there."

"Thinking about Steve?"

"Actually, I was thinking about these murders. Thinking about some link between these women."

"I thought there was no link."

Mark shook his head. "Even if these women weren't linked in any sense when they were alive, the fact that they were all targeted, all chosen as victims means they are linked in death."

"How does that help us?"

"I don't know. But there has to be something. This guy must be using some criteria to pick them out."

"Different ages, hair colour, different parts of town."

"I read of a man in Arkansas, would get on a bus, first bus to pull up, and ride it to it's final destination. Then he's get on the next bus to come past that stop and do the same thing. When he boarded the third bus he'd look for any women sitting alone on the drivers side. The one closest to the front he'd stalk and eventually kill. Did it four times before he was caught."

"That is…..that's really bad luck." Jesse screwed up his face.

"That's an understatement Jess. Being killed for the seat you chose on a bus, it's more than bad luck."

"But how do you ever figure out a link like that?"

Mark massaged his brow. "Our killer is leaving us clues. He's leaving us clues when he leaves those trinkets with the dolls."

"There was no trinket with the last doll"

"Which in itself must mean something" Mark observed. 

"But the police are onto every last detail, the cloth the dolls are made from, the scraps of newspaper used to stuff them, every last detail. I really can' see what's next."

Mark shook his head. "There's just something, _something_, that I'm sure I'm missing here."

__

'Dr Sloan to the ER, Dr Sloan to the ER' the PA announced. 

"Jess, can you go tell Steve Cheryl will be by later and I'll stop in when I can?" Mark asked as he rushed to the door.

"No problemo" Jesse answered as he lifted his weary body from the chair.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

There was no need for Jesse to deliver the first part of the message as Cheryl was already in Steve's room when he arrived. He tried not to smile as he noticed how affectionately she was clasping his hands and the doe-eyed looks on both their faces.

"Hey Cheryl, hey Steve. I'm not stopping, just dropped in to tell you Mark's down in the ER but he'll stop in later, OK?"

"Thanks Jess" Steve replied as Jesse turned back towards the door.

"OK, I've got to run."

"Hot date?" Steve called and Jesse reappeared in the doorway. 

He thought about the question. "Luke warm if past experience is anything to go by." He paused, wondering how Steve would react to being embarrassed in front of Cheryl. *Why not?* he said to himself. "And how about you Steve, got a hot date lined up for tonight?" 

Cheryl turned her head away to hide her smile, but Steve could be afforded no such luxury. He lay flat out on the bed, his face glowing red. From the corner of his eye he could see Jesse smirking in the doorway.

"A hot date?" Steve repeated, grinning. "Well, if past experience is anything to go by then maybe I have."

Cheryl hit him lightly on the arm to show her disapproval, and Jesse could be heard laughing to himself mercilessly as he wandered off down the corridor.

"Past experience Sloan?" Cheryl demanded, her eyes boring holes into his.

"I have to give them something to gossip about" he reasoned.

"I don't find lying a very attractive trait I'll have you know" she warned him.

"What if it wasn't a lie?"

"But _we_ both know it is" she pointed out.

"But" Steve replied, still blushing "_we_ both know it doesn't have to be."

Cheryl let go of Steve's hand and slouched back in her chair. "What are you saying?" He didn't reply but closed his eyes and tried to let the smile dissolve from his face. "Don't shut your eyes like that when I'm talking to you" she laughed.

"What else can I do when I'm too embarrassed to look at you?" he replied and she heard a hint of anger in the response.

She thought about his defence. "OK, fair point. Now are you gonna tell me what you were thinking?"

"I was thinking" Steve started, and the grin popped straight back onto his face. He let out a nervous laugh. "I know nothing happened, I mean nothing _really_ happened those nights I stayed at your place."

"Go on" she prompted.

"You _know_ what I mean"

"Maybe I do, but maybe I just want to hear you say it." Her soft warm voice sounded so seductive, Steve knew this couldn't lead anywhere but the game thrilled him all the same.

"You just want to make me squirm" he observed.

Cheryl laughed and took his hand again. "I don't want to make you squirm, Lieutenant Sloan" she purred. 

*God I love the way she says Sloan* he thought, then he realised she was waiting for him to respond. "Nothing happened between us before…"

"No hot dates" she clarified, her eyes dancing from his eyes to his lips to his eyes again.

*You're imagining it Sloan* he told himself *Of course she's looking at your lips, but only because they're about the last part of your anatomy to be in working order* "No hot dates" he eventually agreed as he felt his own eyes mirroring Cheryl. They settled on her lips. "But it could happen" he added, cockily, then with some insecurity in his voice asked "couldn't it?"

"You and me Sloan, a hot date?" She said it as though it was an idea that had never before crossed her mind, not something to be dismissed lightly.

"Yeah, why not?" he trilled, and if he's been able, Steve would have shrugged nonchalantly. There was a single second of silence between Steve speaking and him bursting into laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Cheryl asked, totally bemused by his sudden fit of giggles.

"A hot date" he struggling to speak through the laughter. "I'm frozen from the neck down and here I am trying to talk you into a hot date!"

Cheryl wrapped her arm around her self as she shared the moment of light relief with him. When they'd both caught their breath again she noted the sadness which had crept into Steve's eyes.

"Hey" she whispered softly, "hey what is it?" But she already knew the answer.

Steve tried to force a smile but failed "nothing, I'm OK."

*Damn* Cheryl scolded herself *what was I playing at? teasing him like that when he's in such a fragile state. It may seem like a game from where I'm sitting but he can't walk away from this like I can. No more leading him on, this stops now before he really gets hurt.*

Cheryl stood up and leant over the bed bringing her face directly over Steve's. She ran a finger over his cheek and he blinked slowly and heavily. "Steve I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't" he croaked back. "I enjoy…forgetting about stuff for a while. Especially if it means talking you into a hot date" he hoped she'd realise that he wasn't upset at her actions, only his own inability to respond to her as he so desperately wanted to. 

"You really want a hot date Sloan?" she asked, hoping to end the game on a simple promise.

"I'm game if you are" he taunted her.

"OK, when you get out of here" she whispered "I'm going to hold you to that. Me and you Sloan" she grinned "_a hot date_." Steve closed his eyes as Cheryl kept stroking his cheek. She tried to read his expression as he lay there, deciding if she could dare push this any further. *Don't hurt him* she kept telling herself, *don't let him think you're not interested but don't do anything to hurt him.* Eventually she decided to speak again "until then" she cooed "due the fact that you are _frozen_ from the neck down…." Steve smiled and opened his eyes, and Cheryl was relieved that her use of his words didn't upset him. She continued, her voice as smooth and sweet as honey "… due the fact that you are frozen from the neck down, we'd better just concentrate on what's above it."

With one hand still resting on his cheek, Cheryl bent down towards Steve. She could feel his breath on her moist lips, and as she moved in closer still Steve half closed his eyes. In his mind it took an eternity for the gap between their lips to disappear. *Kiss me* he thought *please don't tease me now or I'll die, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.*

Though technically speaking this wasn't the first time he and Cheryl had kissed, it was the first time that he and Cheryl had really _shared_ a kiss. Steve's heart was pounding double-time as he felt her warm soft lips brush lightly against his. Cheryl felt it too as she places a hand lightly on his chest, the rapid beat like a marching band beneath her palm. Steve remembered the night he was admitted to hospital, Cheryl had caught him off guard like this, just holding her lips to his. He thought of all the pecks on the cheek that she'd given him since, and how he still loved her to hold his hand even though he couldn't feel it. 

He heard himself murmur as gently Cheryl began to sink deeper into the kiss, her tongue slipping gently into his mouth. Time stood still as she leant over Steve's bed, her hand stroking his face and neck, her fingers combing back through his hair. For the first time since he'd been admitted to hospital three weeks ago, Steve forgot about his paralysed body. *I'm not paralysed* he told himself in the brief moments of worldliness between long languishing kisses, because in Steve's mind, nobody experiencing such heightened emotions could label their physical self in such a way.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jesse delighted in recounting his teasing of Steve the previous night as he sat with Amanda and Mark on the deck of the beach house.

"You are so cruel!" Amanda slapped his thigh and gave him one of her toughest glares.

"He saw the funny side" Jesse pleaded, "but I'm not so sure about Cheryl. And if there's one thing you don't want to do, it's get on the wrong side of a woman who carries a gun."

"I think you're safe" Mark told him. "When I called in after my shift last night things seemed to be going…...pretty well" he smiled.

Amanda raised her eyebrows expectantly but Mark could be drawn no further on the topic. "Well if you aren't going to spill any beans I may have to see if Cheryl wants to participate in a little girl talk sometime."

"I think Cheryl has more than _'girl talk'_ on her mind right now" Mark reminded her.

"Have they found out anymore about Emily Waters?" Jesse asked.

Mark shook his head, "The other detectives on the case, Crowther and Boardman I think their names are, they're working with Reynolds the FBI guy on Emily Waters for now. They've asked Cheryl and Steve to go back to the first three victims, see if they can come up with a connection."

"Steve's not overdoing it I hope?" Amanda shot Mark a concerned look.

"No he's being pretty sensible about things. He knows how tired he can get and when he should take a break, and Cheryl is keeping an eye on him. I think he's just pleased to be involved a little bit more y'know, he's worked this case so long."

"And it gives him something other than his illness to occupy his mind" Jesse pointed out.

Mark smiled "exactly. I just hope those two are making some progress."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Cheryl shuffled through the pile of papers on the table until she found what she was looking for. "Here" she held the sheet in front of Steve's face and pointed to a line of text. "Valerie Shome made a cash withdrawal the morning before she was killed, $200. And if you look back here" she picked up another sheet "$200 two weeks previous, and two weeks before that."

"So she had a pattern of withdrawing money, a lot of people do. Maybe she did a big grocery shop every fortnight. And don't forget there was a lot of cash around the house, the husband was sure nothing had been taken in fact." Steve winced. He was slightly propped up in his bed today, half way between sitting and lying. The machine by his side hummed. "How long have I been on this?" he asked impatiently.

Cheryl glanced at her watch, "an hour gone, an hour to go. We can leave this stuff if you are tired."

"No, I'm fine" he smiled convincingly. "Back to Valerie Shome's financial habits."

"We can pretty much rule out robbery or burglary," Cheryl continued "but those trinkets have to mean something, and Valerie Shome's doll came with a quarter stitched into it." 

"Motives for murder" Steve announced.

"Excuse me?" Cheryl shot him a puzzled glance.

"Back to basics, what are the main motives for murder?"

"Greed" Cheryl started

Steve thought for a moment. "Valerie Shome and Emily Waters both had money in the house but nothing was taken. Genie Anderson and Katriona Bennet were both on low incomes. No ransom notes or blackmail plots." Cheryl nodded her agreement. "OK, how about some good old fashioned lust?" Steve grinned.

"One track mind Sloan" Cheryl chided him.

"As a motive for murder" he reminded her, trying his best to look innocent.

"OK, I'll take this one" she replied. "Ahh,…lust, well we've got four very different looking women if you are talking physical lust, different ages too. No signs of sexual assault prior to the murder, and nothing about the mutilation sexual orientated either." She paused, "if our murderer was lusting after them emotionally speaking, it would suggest much more prior knowledge of the victims. He'd have to know their personality, and again, they were all quite different in that respect."

"And how would he meet them to get to know them, they didn't share any social circles or activities?" Steve added.

"So is lust in or out?" Cheryl asked, motioning her hands up and down like the pans of a balance.

"You never know what floats some people's boats so we have to leave it as a maybe." 

"Revenge?" 

"All we've heard is that these women never hurt anybody, no enemies" Steve jumped in.

"So if it's a past indiscretion that our guy is out to avenge, the family and friends aren't going to be able to help us much." Cheryl concluded.

"Anger goes with revenge in that case. Nobody had a right to be angry with these women as far as we know." Steve pondered for a moment. "Greed, lust, anger, revenge" he murmured. "This wasn't self defence, that's for sure. How about he's proving a point?"

"Then we are screwed because the only point he's proved to me is that he's random and psychotic."

"That's very politically incorrect" Steve warned his partner. "We don't know it's a _he_ and whoever it is could be very sane, just very _very_ evil."

"What do we know about evil?" Cheryl wondered out loud.

Steve blew a long breath through pursed lips. "Evil's a tough one. Evil and psychotic and deluded. Introduce any one of those and we could be here forever." 

"So lets go back to the trinkets" Cheryl suggested as Steve's little game had provided no answers. "The money has us stumped, how about Genie's bottle top?" As Cheryl spoke those words Steve's mind drifted off. Cheryl continued, unaware "What's the significance of a bottle top? She was a student, enjoyed going out with her friends, drinking. But the top was from a soft drink, not alcoholic." She finally noticed Steve wasn't listening, "Steve, you still with me here?"

"Yeah, thought I had something for a second but it's gone."

Cheryl shuffled through the papers again. "She had a part time job at a second hand bookstore." There was a long pause as she played through a scene in her mind. "Do you remember going to that bookstore?"

"Yeah, I remember it, lot of students hanging around the place."

"And they had a section where you could just sit and read." Steve shot Cheryl a puzzled look. "Stay with me" she told him "they served drinks and snacks there too, right? It wasn't quite a café but a lot of those kids were hanging around, browsing the books and having a drink. Genie's bottle top could be in reference to her being a sort of waitress. What are you smiling at?"

"You said it again. _'Genie's bottle top'._ That's when something clicked before. What if that bottle top was literally Genie's? As in it _belonged_ to her, and our guy was giving her it back?"

Cheryl leant forward and rubbed her fingers across her lips, unconvinced. "And Valerie's coin belonged to her and he was giving it back?"

"We'd need some context for it" Steve admitted, realising his partner couldn't yet see a connection.

"Valerie dropped the coin and he found it" Cheryl suggested. Though as partners they'd often had different ideas on cases, she and Steve had always worked well together, following one another's lead when necessary, and playing devils advocate when appropriate. "Or maybe she gave it to him directly" she shrugged.

"A vagrant?" Steve was thinking out loud more than suggesting it as a possibility.

"A charity collector, a tip if he's a waiter or something like that."

"Remind me to be more generous with my tipping" Steve smirked.

"OK, we can give the coin some sort of loose context, and the bottle top too. How about the map we found with Katriona Bennet?" Cheryl continued.

There was silence. "A map's a map," Steve concluded stoically. "A map's used to give directions."

"Maybe it's that simple then" Cheryl offered casually. "Katriona Bennet gave him directions, maybe even drew the map herself."

"Would you kill somebody for helping you when you're lost?" Steve asked.

Cheryl laughed "Oh I don't know." She rubbed her eyes wearily. "I tell you what I'll do though, I'll see if Crowther has turned up anymore on the map, the area it was supposed to show and, if possible, any details on the pen used."

"And the handwriting" Steve added. "OK, I know it wasn't writing as such, just lines and arrows. But maybe they can still tell us left-handed or right-handed. It's not much but it's something," he raised a hopeful eyebrow. 

Cheryl shuffled the papers into a pile on the table. "You OK there, want a drink or anything?"

"I'm fine thanks" Steve replied. "How much longer have I got?" he tried not to sound like a whining kid in the back of a car.

Cheryl smirked and looked at her watch. "55 minutes to go I'm afraid. Want me to stay with you a while longer?"

"You'd better take our tenuous link to Masters, let him blast it out of the water."

"Pessimist" Cheryl scorned. She slipped the papers into her bag "I can stay for a while if you like."

"I'd like very much" Steve replied cheekily, "but I don't want to get us into trouble."

Cheryl eyed the nurse in the corner of the room with suspicion. Swiftly and without a sound she leant across the bed. "You take it easy Sloan" she whispered, and softly kissed Steve's lips. It was over far too quickly, he thought, and pouted as Cheryl put on her jacket. "I'll be back to see you later" she called as she headed past the nurse to the door.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

CJ was rummaging through the collection of books that lay scattered across Steve's bed. "Well it depends what _kind_ of story you want to hear next" he explained to Steve, palms upturned awaiting a response.

"You chose, you know which ones are best"

CJ began holding them up one by one. "This one is a bit like Harry Potter but not as good. It's about some kids in a haunted house and magic and stuff. This one" he picked up another book "is a bit of a baby's book so I don't think we should read that one." Steve smiled as the young boy concentrated on the task in hand. "Hmmm, I haven't read this one, or this one" he pointed "so maybe they're good, maybe they aren't."

The door opened and Mark, Amanda and Jesse filed in.

"Oh-oh looks like we are being invaded" Steve gasped.

"I finished Harry Potter for Steve" CJ beamed, turning to his mother, "he thought it was great!"

"That's good honey, but now you have to tidy these up OK?"

"Is it time to go already?" he moaned.

Steve shot a worried glance towards his father but Mark's expression allayed his fears.

"Yes little man, it's way past your bedtime."

"You hold these" CJ instructed Amanda, handing her the pile of books. He climbed onto the chair at Steve's bedside and kissed his cheek. "See you soon" he chirped.

"Bye CJ, thanks again" Steve called back. Amanda waved a silent goodbye as she closed the door behind herself.

"So?" Steve asked expectantly.

"So" Mark began, taking a seat beside his son. "I got a call from Cheryl. They think they have caught your 'voodoo' killer."

"Oh thank god" Steve smiled feeling months worth of fears starting to drain away, "what happened?"

"A woman heard noises in her garden, called 911. When the police arrived her back door had been forced open."

"Is she alright? Did he hurt her?" Steve asked, his voice brimming with panic.

Mark shook his head; "She's terrified but relatively unharmed. It seems the struggle had just started when your guys arrived."

"And they caught him at the scene, they're sure it's him?"

"The sirens scared him off but he was arrested a few blocks away, out of his mind on drugs."

"Evidence, they've got enough evidence right?" Steve began to pant.

"Ssh, Steve, calm down" Mark told his son. "Just relax, OK. Cheryl had just been called to the scene when we spoke but they seem sure it's him. They found a doll in the kitchen….."

"The camera, did he have it with him? The knife…."

"Hey Steve, come on, take it easy" Jesse interrupted, his friends growing anxiety obvious.

"I need to be sure" Steve's voice quaked, "I want to know what's going on down there."

"Should I call Cheryl?" Mark asked calmly.

Steve thought for a minute. "Are you working tonight?" he asked both his father and his friend.

"I'm on in a couple of hours" Jesse answered.

"I have the night off" Mark told him.

"OK then" Steve continued. "Dad, can you do me a favour?"

"Anything" Mark nodded.

"Just go to the station for me. I'm not asking you to get involved, but just be there in case there's anything I should know, in case Cheryl needs somebody…."

"OK, as long as you promise to go through your breathing exercises with Jesse. If Arnie hears you panting like that…"

"I know, I know, I promise to calm down. Now will you just go?"

Mark squeezed Steve's arm and headed towards the door. Before he left the room he shot a warning glance at Jesse who nodded his understanding.

"Come on then buddy" Jesse began. "Think calm mountain streams and let me hear you breathe."

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed raggedly.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"But obviously the new ribs will never replace the original _BBQ Bob's_ ribs" Jesse explained as he sat at Steve's bedside some time later. "Variety, that's what we are offering now" he smiled triumphantly, but Steve was a million miles away.

"I'm sorry Jess" Steve apologised "I'm interested, really I am, and I'm sorry that you've been lumbered with all the work at Bob's. It's just…"

"You've got other stuff on your mind right now?" Jesse finished.

Steve smiled, "that's an understatement."

"If you want to talk about anything, you know I'm here right"

"I know Jess, and I really appreciate it. But sometimes it's good just to try and get away from this" he rolled his eyes around the room "and from talk of the murders."

"Well there's something other than your health and the case we could talk about" Jesse smiled.

"More business at BBQ Bobs?" Steve teased, "or maybe Harry Potter?"

Jesse cackled and rubbed his hands together "I was thinking of somebody a little more worldly who works magic for you!"

"Do you use lines like that when you are chatting up women?" Steve asked but there was no reply.

"I'm not prying, I'm just being a friend" Jesse pressed on. "If you want to tell me about Cheryl" Steve blushed at the mention of her name, triggering another cackle from his friend. "Come on, spill the beans Sloan."

"Aren't you on shift yet?" Steve enquired. He appreciated Jesse's company but wasn't sure how much relentless prying he could fend off.

Jesse took a quick look at his watch. "As a matter of fact I almost am. I'll go down but if it's a quiet night I'll pop back up, OK?"

"OK, but I won't be spilling any beans."

"Spoilsport" Jesse giggled, "and remember, whatever happens, keep breathing deeply".

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mark stood behind the one-way mirror, staring into the empty interview room. He'd been at the station for over an hour now and so far nothing had happened. The door opened and Cheryl joined him. "They're bringing him in now" she smiled. Doctor says he's OK to be questioned but he's still a bit flaky."

"Aren't you doing the interview?" Mark asked.

Cheryl shook her head and tried to hide her disappointment. "Master's is going to sit in with Boardman, Reynolds will probably join us in here."

The door to the interview room opened and the young man was led in. He was scruffy looking with dark wavy hair. He slumped down into the chair. Cheryl and Mark smiled nervously at each other.

Twenty minutes later the interview had gone nowhere. The suspect, Dwayne Little, simply protested his innocence over and over again.

"First thing he said when they arrested him" Cheryl informed Mark. "He was screaming that he didn't do it, it wasn't his fault. But he hasn't said anything specific enough for us to put him at the scene."

"But you have other evidence?" Mark asked.

"The doll was left at the scene, we're looking for the camera and weapon. But he fits the description we got and he was found less than three blocks away, hiding in a bush." Cheryl saw the look of concern on Marks face "I know" she whispered, "not perfect, so let's hope he slips up and incriminates himself."

"C'mon Dwayne" Masters hollered, "just tell us what you were doing there."

"I wasn't doing anything," the young man cried. "I haven't been in anybody's house tonight, I swear!"

"You weren't in Joanne McNally's house this evening?"

"No, I don't know any Joanne….."

"How about Valerie, or Genie or Katriona or Emily" Masters continued, thumping the table with each name he spat.

"Who did Masters just say?" Mark asked Cheryl, massaging his brow.

"Who, the woman tonight?" Mark nodded and Cheryl continued. "Joanne McNally, why?"

"The name rings a bell." Mark shook his head in frustration; "it'll come to me."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve lay silently in bed, his breath escaping him in ragged bursts; there was no sound from the corridor outside his room. *Please let Jesse have a quiet night* he prayed. He swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath enough to speak. "What do you…"

"Quiet!" the voice whispered sternly from the corner of the room. "Just you lay there nice and quiet OK?"

Steve didn't dare reply and couldn't nod in response. *Stay calm*, he said to himself, *what did Jesse say before he left? _Breathe deeply_. That's it, just stay calm and focussed and keep breathing deeply*.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Mark handed Cheryl the coffee cup and stood silently next to her as she watched the interview. Reynolds had now taken the place of Masters in the room.

"Did I miss much?" he whispered and Cheryl shook her head glumly.

"Still no signs of the camera or weapon, or what he used to jimmy the door" she huffed. "But Joanne McNally will be released from the hospital in the morning, hopefully then she can ID this jerk."

"Joanne McNally!" Mark snapped his fingers, "she's one of our new ER nurses."

Cheryl replied but Mark didn't hear as his mind began racing through a thousand tangled strands of information. He pushed his face up to the one way glass and peered into the room.

"Mark what is it?" Cheryl asked but he held up a finger to silence her for a moment. "Mark?" she asked gently.

"It's not him! Your theory" Mark began as he paced up and down the room. "Valerie Shome gave money to the murderer, Genie Anderson served drinks, the directions given by Katriona Bennet…."

"Go on" she prompted.

Mark waved his arms through the air, "it's about helping people, Joanne is an ER nurse, she helps……"

"What is it?" Cheryl asked as the old man massaged his temple in frustration again.

"She fought back tonight, you said there was a struggle?"

"Yes" Cheryl replied as Mark headed out the door. "Where are you going?"

"To the hospital, Steve may be in danger"

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"Call the guard, the one outside Steve's room and tell him to be on the alert."

Masters paced over to see what the disturbance was all about. "Dr Sloan, is something the matter?" he demanded.

"That's not the killer," Mark shouted pointing to the door of the interview room, "but I know who is, and he may be going after Steve." He looked pleadingly at Masters, "Call the officer at the hospital…." Mark fell silent when he saw the look on Master's face.

"The officer was relieved of his duty an hour ago" he shrugged. "We felt it was no longer necessary to keep him there as we have the killer in custody."

Mark Sloan froze in fear.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"I'm not sure how this happened" the shadowy figure confessed quietly to Steve, "I didn't mean for this to happen to you, I really don't know how I did it."

"You didn't" Steve explained shakily. "I have a medical condition that caused my paralysis."

"That pretty young detective you work with, she's OK though."

Steve began to pant as the young man mentioned Cheryl, "you..leave..her…"

"Ssh, ssh" the man replied soothingly. "Don't worry about her, I'll treat her very well I promise. She's a beauty, isn't she" he mused "a real work of art."

Steve's chest contracted with a mixture of fear and anger, tears welled in his eyes.

"People can't help themselves sometimes" the man continued to himself. He lifted a small doll from his pocket and held it up for Steve to see. "Helping!" he laughed_, "we can help you, we can help you, let us help_" he mimicked in a high pitched voice.

"Did Valerie Shome help you?" Steve asked, gulping for air. *Oh God* he thought to himself, *keep him talking but keep him calm*.

"Valerie Shome, which one was she? The lady by the river?"

"You tell me"

"I was just sitting by the river, minding my own business. She had the nerve to come over and drop small change in my empty coffee cup, like I was a bum or one of those crappy street artists!" Though there was obvious anger in his voice, the young man sounded totally relaxed as he spoke.

Steve decided not to push for the gory details just yet. He'd save that for later, now he needed to buy time any way he could. "You felt Valerie Shome patronised you" Steve croaked "the others too?"

"Y'know Genie used to be a friend of mine but that day when I went into the bookstore, she was all different. She was like _'oh how are? do you feel OK? you take it easy', _when I ordered a coke she wouldn't even let me pay." The man shook his head in disgust. "_'It's on the house'_, that's what she said, then gave me one of those smiles, you know the smiles people give you right?"

"Right" Steve agreed weakly as his mind started to drift. *If only I could get out of this damn bed and….* *Concentrate* he said to himself, *you can't go anywhere so keep him calm and play for time. *

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Masters wove in and out of the traffic, as Mark sat in the passenger seat shaking his head. Cheryl was seated in the back.

"Your suspect has no marks on him, except for needle marks that is" Mark began. "If Joanne McNally had put up a fight he'd be covered in scratches. Scratches like the ones she no doubt treated David Peters for in the ER three days ago."

"You think Peter's is our guy?" Masters asked hastily.

"I'm sure of it" Mark snapped back. "I even found him outside Steve's room, I presumed when I saw the scratches that he was looking for the ER and got lost. Damn!" he thumped the dashboard, "I was so preoccupied I didn't even spot it. His hands were covered with scratches, just a couple of days after Emily Water's was killed. He said they were from a cat, but they didn't look like cat scratches. I should have thought about it, followed up but…"

"Mark, you need to calm down, this isn't our fault" Cheryl reasoned.

"Taking photos, he said he was an art student and he'd been taking photos of cats."

Masters blasted on the horn as a motorbike pulled out in front of him. "Don't worry Dr Sloan, the patrol car will be there by now and security will have been alerted"

"God I hope so" the old man shook his head, "I hope so."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

A beam of moonlight bounced off the knife blade as David Peters pulled it from his rucksack. *How artistic* Steve thought, *if this was a movie they'd take hours to perfect this shot. *

Peters continued to ramble to himself in hushed tones. "I was worried I'd miss the last bus back, and I saw you there, with the pretty lady. I didn't want to interrupt, she seemed really upset and you two seemed like you had a lot to say to each other. But I needed to know what time it was, for the bus you see?" He paused and looked at Steve. It was the first time the two had made eye contact. 

"I'm sorry" Peters smiled, "I'm being really rude, I didn't introduce myself" he extended a hand. Steve stared back in utter disbelief. "Oops, guess you can't shake" Peters laughed. "I'm David, you're Steven right?" Steve didn't reply. "That's what it says on your chart" he pointed to the bottom of the bed. "I only know the lady from the news, Detective Banks, what's her first name?" Steve lay silently, fighting hard to breathe. "She visits you a lot. Do you talk about me?" There was no response but he continued anyway. "On the TV they talk about voodoo but it's got nothing to do with that. But when I wanted to send you the pictures I put _'voodoo detectives'_ on the envelope right? That's what they called you on the news. You see Steven, I like your detective friend, but you kind of get in the way, which's why I wished I could have tied you up. The dolls are strange, aren't they? You know, they started off as art, as sculptures, the early anatomists were artists you know? But the dolls changed, lots of things changed…."

"What kind of books do you read?" Steve croaked, desperately changing the topic of conversation, *don't let him get into the details of the killings* he thought, *control the mood of the conversation. Get him talking about something else*.

"Art books, I'm an artist." He rummaged in his rucksack. "A photographer too" he lifted out the camera. 

*Nice move Sloan*Steve cursed.

David's eyes shot towards the door. He held a finger to his lips to tell Steve to be quiet. Steve could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. *To scream or not to scream? *. It was a decision he didn't have to make. The door creaked open and before Steve could shout any sort of warning Peters had lunged forward with the knife.

Jesse was about the same height as the armed man, but caught off guard there was nothing he could do to defend himself. The blade seared across his upper arm, a scarlet river immediately flowing through the white sea of his lab coat. Steve let out a desperate scream as he watched the killer lunge towards the open door. All that was visible to him now were two sets of legs sprawled on the floor in the doorway. Peters scrambled to his feet, the bloody knife still in his hand. His focus switched from Steve to Jesse, and back to Steve again.

Jesse began to shuffle desperately out of the room, still lying on his back. There were voices in the distance, and footsteps. The killer looked back and forth, Jesse, Steve, Jesse, Steve.

"Aaarrrrggghhh" Steve hollered at the top of his lungs in pure frustration. Peters jumped back in astonishment. "Aaarrrrrrrrrrhhh" this time his scream was anger fuelled. Could he really scare such a killer away simply by shouting? Peters' head flinched to the door at the sound of Jesse's mumbling.

"Steve?" the voice came from outside the room. Peters turned and ran out into the corridor. 

"Jesse!" Steve screamed, "Jess, Jess talk to me." Steve began to pant and then choke. Unable to breathe he lay gulping on the bed. There were more frantic voices in the corridor now; voices, but he couldn't make out words. The door flew open further and the police officer stepped into the room, gun raised.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Arnie no!" Mark screamed.

"He should NOT have been sedated Mark" Dr Jones replied just as loudly.

"He had another panic attack and I won't let you ventilate until he's come around from the sedative and we see how his breathing…."

"Mark, he _couldn't_ breathe!" Arnie shouted.

"Do you two want to keep it down?" Amanda hissed as they all stood huddled in the doctor's lounge.

"If we don't ventilate he could die, don't you understand that Mark?"

"If we do ventilate it will kill him" Mark shot back. He knew Arnie wouldn't understand his retort and that he couldn't explain further.

"When your son comes around from this sedative" Arnie spat, waving a finger in Marks face "he can make a decision. Either _I_ am his physician or _you_ are. I will not be held responsible for your mistakes Dr Sloan." With that he stormed from the room, slamming the door as he went.

Amanda moved over to Mark but he shrugged off her attempts to comfort him. Cheryl sat on the sofa, her face resting in her hands. A pale looking Jesse was beside her, his heavily bandaged arm hanging limply at his side and his head resting on the back of the seat. There was absolute silence.

Masters quietly opened the door and stepped into the room, four pairs of eyes turned to him. "He's not here" he whispered apologetically.

"He took off down that corridor about three seconds ahead of your guys!" Jesse cried, wincing in pain as he stretched his arm. "They didn't catch him? My god, the LAPD to the rescue, I'm gonna sleep safe in my bed knowing you guys are keeping this town in order."

"I can understand your frustration Dr Travis…" Masters began in his defence.

"Frustration!" Mark barked, "Jesse could have been killed! My son had a murderer in his room and why was that? I'll tell you why, because _you_ released the officer guarding his room. You were so sure you had caught the killer when you had no evidence at all…."

"Mark calm down" Amanda shouted.

"Everybody calm down" Cheryl sniffed, her eyes puffy and red. "OK, we know, major stuff up. But we have to calm down and focus." A semblance of order washed over the room again. "Jesse is going to be alright." Jess nodded slowly to confirm her statement. "Steve was….unharmed, " she chose her words carefully, "and hopefully this won't have set him back too far." She took a deep breath to calm her quivering voice. "We know who this guy is now, and we are trying to get an address for him. We need to concentrate on getting to Peters before he does any further damage. And we need to stay calm and positive for Steve. The last thing he needs is to see us arguing and fighting and talking about incompetence. He needs to feel secure."

"There's an officer back on the door, one back at your place too Dr Sloan" Masters told them gruffly.

"So what do we do now?" Amanda asked.

"I'm going to be with my son" Mark replied wearily, throwing a disdaining look at Masters.

"We'll keep working on an address" Cheryl chipped in.

Mark spun around. "You need an address for Peters?" Cheryl nodded. "Amanda, could you go downstairs with Cheryl and Chief Masters, David Peters' notes should have an address on them?"

"OK" she smiled.

"What about me?" Jesse asked Mark as the others left the room.

Mark turned and smiled openly at him. "You get some rest Jesse." The young doctor sighed in disappointment. "And Jesse" Mark continued, "thank you."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve whined as his father sat at his bedside, gently stroking his face. As he'd hoped, Steve's breathing had softened a little but it was still audible in the quiet solitude of the dimly lit room.

"Feeling groggy?" Mark asked softly, but there was no coherent reply. Steve continued with the moans and muttering, fighting to open his eyes. There were voices outside and then a knock at the door. Mark stood and opened it,

"How is he?" Amanda whispered

Mark beckoned her inside. "Still disorientated but his breathing is a little better. Any more news from the police?" 

"Peters never stayed for treatment after you saw him, one of the nurses confirmed that Joanne McNally showed him the way out. There was only a partial address on the chart you started, but they found the right place, a student complex over by Hillview." She looked at Steve and frowned. "David Peters _did_ live there, until late last year, at which point he _was advised to leave_."

"What do you mean?"

"His old flatmates think he had some sort of a nervous breakdown. Apparently he was always working on an art assignment or photography project, doing extra reading and forgetting to take care of himself. His parents aren't around and the friends weren't exactly sure what had gone on. One of them thinks the college intervened, another says it was a volunteer counselling service on campus. But whatever happened David moved out and into some sort of shelter or half-way house."

"Are they checking with psychiatric clinics and…"

Amanda nodded, "they've got the bases covered this time, and every officer in the department looking for him. He must have medical and psychiatric records someplace and somebody must know where he lives now."

Steve began to mumble again; Mark leant over the bed and pulled the oxygen mask from his son's face. "I can't understand what you're saying right now, just take it easy, wait for the medication to wear off alright?" Mark smiled.

"I'll leave you to it" Amanda whispered as she got up to leave the room.

"Thanks Amanda" Mark replied, his eyes never wavering from his sons face.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The morning sun scorched through the windows of the beach house as Masters peered down closely at the damaged lock. Cheryl and Mark had spent the whole night at the hospital, both trying to do their jobs whilst keeping a careful watch over Steve.

"He must have come here for me last night" Cheryl reasoned, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as a shiver ran up her spine. "When he didn't find me he went to the hospital for Steve instead."

Mark moved across the kitchen towards the two officers. "Good job Cheryl was at the station seeing as you, in your infinite wisdom, called the officers off here too."

"Dr Sloan, I made a mistake, I won't deny that" Masters replied hastily. "It _would_ seem Peters was here, and when he found the place empty he went to Community General. Now that he has disappeared from the group home we need to figure out where he'll go next."

"Back to the hospital or back here" Cheryl reasoned. "From what Steve told us we were pretty much on the mark with motive. So I'm next on the list for giving him the time at the Bennet crime scene, and Steve's in danger because Peters sees him as a barrier to getting to me."

"Jesse could be on the list now too," Mark added.

"Jesse didn't really _help_ him" Cheryl pointed out, "but killers are often drawn back to what they see as 'failings'."

"And you ought to be careful Dr Sloan" Masters observed sternly.

"And why is that?" Mark asked gruffly, having little time or respect for anything this man had to say now.

"Take your pick. You are Steve's father…"

"Which Peters may not know" Mark pointed out.

"None the less, you share this house with Detective Banks, you helped Peters at the hospital, and you were the one who stopped him from getting to Steve the first time around."

"He's right, you need to be careful" Cheryl nodded.

"OK, well I'll call somebody to come and fix that door if that's OK, and then I'm off to see Steve."

"I'll join you" Cheryl said, then looking at Masters added, "if that's alright with you sir?"

"Not a problem, I'll call if there are any more developments. And Detective Banks, watch your back."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

*Say something* Steve pleaded as he and Jesse sat in silence. *This is unbelievable, usually you can't shut Jesse up. *

Jesse shuffled in his chair, carefully cradling his arm, and smiled nervously at Steve.

*Say something or I'll scream! OK I'd better say something. * 

"So" Steve began, "How's things?"

"Fine" Jesse replied, "things are fine."

There was a long pause. "The arm?" Steve asked.

"The arm, oh the arm's….fine."

*Great* Steve thought, *I get more conversation than this when I'm alone. * 

"So" he hoped it would be third time lucky "how does it feel knowing a psychotic art student with a penchant for small dolls tried to stab you to death and is still running around out there?"

Jesse thought about it for a moment. "Fine."

Steve laughed nervously, "Ah Jesse, tell me this isn't as crazy as it sounds."

"Sorry, but it is." He ran a hand back through his hair, adding to the already bedraggled expression.

"You could have been killed" Steve sighed.

"I know, and I was only coming up here to get you to spill the beans on Cheryl!"

"Serves you right for being so damn nosy then."

"I can't believe he was in here with you, you must have been terrified."

"Understatement" Steve admitted.

"I was lying there in the corridor thinking about what I might find when I came into the room" Jesse recounted. "When I heard you scream I thought maybe there were two of them, but at least I knew your lungs were holding up."

"I can't tell you how useless I felt Jess, I was just stalling for time, stalling for time, waiting for something to happen, anything." He smiled, "usually, guys like that, situations like that, I just think about kicking their ass and cuffing them. I tell you it's a lot easier than all those mind games and steering the conversation."

"You don't like the idea of being a hostage negotiator or stopping suicide jumpers on skyscrapers?" Jesse beamed, back in his wannabe action man mode.

"I don't think I've got the patients or the brains for that work, I'd be goading them on, desperate for some action."

"Can we come in?" Mark asked as he stuck his head around the door.

"The more the merrier" Steve replied

"He's just licking my boots for saving him the other day" Jesse informed them, puffing up his chest.

Mark and Cheryl shuffled into the room.

"Any more news?" Steve asked impatiently before either could speak.

Cheryl began recounting the details she had so far. "Masters called ten minutes ago, we've got enough from the group home and here to nail this guy."

"Like what?" Steve demanded.

"The photos for one. As predicted he didn't just leave one set at the crime scene, he took more home for his own gory album."

"Anything else?"

Cheryl sighed. She'd guessed Steve would want to know every last detail but given his condition was reluctant to tell him. "Security camera from the main door downstairs shows Peters entering with that rucksack, from other cameras we can track him right up to your room. The rucksack and his room at the group home contained dolls and the fabrics he'd used to make them. He left his camera in here too…"

"But took the knife with him" Jesse observed.

Cheryl nodded. "There were more knifes in the rucksack and his room along with notes and diaries, drawings and books, a whole load of stuff Steve."

"What did he use for breaking into the houses?"

"We haven't figured that out yet, but really, we have enough to get this guy." She hoped her smile would convince him of that.

"OK" Jesse began after a lull in the conversation, "you've got all the evidence you need, and I don't want to sound like a wimp or anything here but" he grinned nervously, "any chance of you actually getting the guy too?"

"They're working on it Jess," Mark assured him, though his words did little to comfort the young doctor. Mark shot a questioning look at Cheryl who shrugged in reply.

"Come on" Steve invited them. They both feigned innocence but Steve wasn't buying it. "I'm not blind, I saw that look!"

Cheryl smiled sweetly, hoping to soften Steve up before delivering the next bombshell to him. "There's nothing for you to worry about but" she began

"Oh god, we're all going to die!" Jesse shrieked. "It'll be like one of those bad horror movies, there'll be a power cut and…" Mark put a restraining hand on Jesse's arm, and his stern look told him to calm down. "Sorry" Jess apologised sheepishly, "but she did say '_but_'."

Cheryl raised an eyebrow and attempted to pick up where she left off. "Before Peters came here yesterday, we think he went to the beach house."

"You think?" Steve asked, unconvinced.

"The lock had been forced, nothing missing inside."

"And Masters had released the patrol car that was supposed to be watching the place." He clenched his jaw tightly in frustration and fear. If Cheryl or his father had been in that house, he dreaded to think what could have happened.

"The patrol car is back" Cheryl reassured him.

"I don't want you going back there" Steve said calmly, "either of you. You can go to a hotel, or a safe house or anywhere until this is over." It was then that he noticed Cheryl's head drop and her eyes flick away. "Oh what?" he asked, but there was no reply. "Whatever it is, forget about it" he shouted.

"Steve listen" Cheryl tried desperately to explain.

"Maybe we should go" Mark suggested to Jesse.

"Stay right where you are" Steve insisted, "now tell me what's going on Cheryl!"

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Fifteen minutes and one huge argument later Mark and Jesse watched as Cheryl and Steve stared defiantly at each other. Their war of words had, in the end, boiled down to a '_should_' verses _'should not'_ screaming match.

Cheryl, with Masters' agreement, had decided that she should return to the beach house, in an attempt to lure Peters out of hiding. Steve had decided that she should not.

"Dad, tell her it's too dangerous" Steve pleaded.

"You know I can't get involved" Mark reasoned. Though he agreed with his son and hated to see him upset he knew he had no right to interfere with Cheryl's decisions or official police work.

"There will be backup outside, there will be an officer waiting upstairs, I will be armed." Cheryl explained, but none of her assurances could sway Steve on the matter.

"It's too dangerous" he barked

"No more than other operations we've been involved in." She glanced at her watch and shuffled in her chair.

"I don't think you should do this" Steve huffed and Cheryl rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"It could be the quickest way to find him. Those incompetent fools at the group home have no idea where he went. I still can't believe they didn't know something was wrong, aren't they paid to keep an eye on these people? There were bloody clothes in his room and…."

"and you are changing the subject" Steve snapped. He took a long cleansing breath. Mark leant forward, worried as he heard Steve wheeze. "Dad, Jesse" Steve asked before his father could say anything. "Can you give us a moment please?"

Jesse and Mark willingly complied, both breathing a sigh of relief as they left the tension filled room and stepped into the corridor. Inside the debate continued, but this time Steve changed tact.

"Please listen to me" he begged his partner. "I think this is too dangerous, too risky. You can catch this guy another way instead of using yourself as bait. I just have a really bad feeling about this."

"It's no more risky than a thousand other operations we've been involved in"

"It's different" Steve snapped back. "It's not _we_, I won't be there to…."

"Protect me?" Cheryl snarled.

Steve composed himself before speaking again. "It's different because it's personal"

"Because of the dolls and the photos, because he talked about me when he was here? Yes it's personal, that's why I'm a perfect set up for him."

"It's personal because of us" Steve whispered, feeling the sting of tears threatening his eyes.

Cheryl chewed over the statement a hundred times before croaking a reply. "I still have a job to do." She looked at her watch. When Masters had agreed to the set up on the phone earlier he'd told her to be back at the station before five. She was running out of time. "I have to go" she muttered, referring to the time. But Steve took it as a defence of her decision to participate in the set up.

"No you don't have to go" he implored her, "Masters can't make you"

"That's not what I mean Steve. Look, I have a job to do and I have to go, now."

"No" he replied weakly, the ears welling heavily in his eyes now.

"Mark and Jesse will be staying here, either with you or in the sleep room of the lounge. You'll all be together, safe." She tried to sound as professional and confident as possible.

"Please don't go" Steve whispered again as Cheryl stood and collected her coat from the back of the chair.

"You have no right to put me in this position Steve, you have no right to ask me to neglect my duties"

"No right?" he asked venomously as two perfect tears rolled down his cheeks.

"We're partners Steve, can't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"I thought we were more than partners" he replied without emotion, "I thought I could trust you to take care of me too."

The tension in the room was tangible. Steve's eyes stung with the tears he failed to fight back, Cheryl was flushed and shaking.

"Masters is expecting me" she told him after a long pause. "I'll update Mark when I can, and I can come in to see you tomorrow" she hesitated, "if you still want me to."

There was no answer to her question. She lent towards Steve with the intention of kissing him goodbye, even if the kiss were only that of a friend. But he clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes tightly closed. "Don't" he spat through gritted teeth and Cheryl pulled away.

As she reached the door she turned and raised her head. "I'm not doing this to hurt you Steve" she told him with conviction, but he didn't hear. Steve would spend the rest of the night locked deep in his own mind, silently praying for his partners safety.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"You could at least pretend to be glad to see me" Amanda told Steve as she took a seat at his bedside.

"Just thought it might be….someone else" he explained glumly.

"Well, a little bird tells me that you and a certain someone may not have parted on the best of terms the other day."

"That little bird wants to mind his own business before I rip his goddamn wings off!"

Amanda mulled over the statement and the ferocity with which it was delivered. "You aren't very happy are you?" she asked playfully and an involuntary smile crept over Steve's face.

"She didn't come by at all yesterday" he sighed. "I don't suppose I blame her, I wasn't exactly…ah heck I was a total asshole."

"But you know that Cheryl is OK, and that's the main thing isn't it?"

"Yeah" he agreed weakly, "but you can bet she'll be pulling the same stunt again tonight, and again tomorrow, and on and on until this psycho does come after her."

"I won't tell you not to worry" Amanda smiled, "because I know it's all you've done this past two days. But Cheryl can look after herself, she won't do anything stupid."

"Unlike me" Steve mused.

"Mark tells me your breathing has improved"

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing full well that his friend was changing the subject. "Yeah, feels a lot easier" he replied, deciding anything but the investigation was a good use of his brain right now.

"CJ's got the new Harry Potter book you know, he's bugging me to bring him in again."

Steve smiled and relaxed as Amanda sat at his side. Together they chatted casually long into the afternoon, both blissfully unaware of the terror that was soon to strike.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

When the door to Steve's room opened later that day he didn't stir. He was only half-asleep, but somehow unable to rouse himself to a fully conscious state. *Probably just a nurse* he thought, *always in here, prodding and poking and making their notes.* 

Some time later, as his eyes began the struggle to open fully, he was suddenly aware of the presence in the room. He had no idea how long the figure had been standing there by the window. Unable to turn his head, he couldn't make out any details, just a shadow lurking there. He didn't have to wait long before it hit him who it was;

"Bet you didn't think you'd be seeing me again?" the voice asked.

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "I wasn't sure" he replied, "not after last time." He waited a short while before asking, "how long have you been here?"

"About twenty minutes"

Steve sighed, trying desperately hard to keep his voice void of any emotion. "What to you want?"

"To talk." The figure moved from the window towards Steve's bed, and bowing over him added, "and to finish what I started the other day."

Steve closed his eyes tightly and shuddered as he felt Cheryl's mouth press firmly to his.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she pulled away.

"Do you really care" he bit back, regretting his words immediately.

Cheryl let out a small moan, "please don't let's go over this again."

"Fine by me" he snapped.

"He never showed up, three nights on the row and not a sign of him. Masters figured there was no point continuing so you'll be glad to hear I'm no longer being used as bait."

"I'd have preferred it if you'd never used yourself as bait in the first place."

"I know that, but we had to try. We have no other leads so far, this guy has vanished."

Steve lay in silence, tracing the cracks on the ceiling with his eyes for the millionth time. Cheryl took a seat at his side and picked up one of his cold limp hands in her own. Though he couldn't feel it as such, he was aware of what she was doing. If he wanted to maintain his air of indifference he should ask her to let go, but instead he pretended that he hadn't noticed her gesture at all.

"Can you please say something to me?" Cheryl asked angrily, pulling Steve's hand up to her cheek.

"What do you what me to say?"

"Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling" she pleaded.

"And what good would that do me? I told you the other night what I thought. I thought" he recapped, in the remote chance she had forgotten, "that it was too dangerous for you to use yourself as bait. And it should have been pretty obvious to you how I felt" he began choking back the tears.

"And now?" Cheryl asked softly.

"Now…….now I think….."

"What?" she pleaded.

"I…I….I can't" Steve stuttered.

"Try, please try and tell me"

A hush fell between them. "Close your eyes" he told her in the faintest whisper.

"What?"

"Close your eyes, I can't talk to you about this stuff when you are staring at me." Cheryl lightly shut her eyes and in due time Steve began again. "Now I think I was a fool" he rasped, his throat tightening with emotion. "Now I think you were right, I can't tell you what to do, and it's not fair of me to ask you to change how you live your life because of my fears."

Cheryl pulled Steve's hand from her cheek and lightly kissed the back of his fingers.

"Do you remember the night I got angry at you for bringing the nurse in? When they made me lie down flat like this?" he continued. Cheryl nodded. "I asked dad to come and find you, and I told you it was because I wanted to apologise." He paused, and drew a long deep breath. If he was going to say this he wanted to make sure it came out right, there would be no second chance at telling her for the first time. "There was something else I wanted to tell you that night. I wanted to tell you because I'd had a fright, when I heard about that stabbing on the news." Cheryl again nodded silently as Steve danced around the whole point of the conversation. "I thought that if something bad ever happened to you then you might not know, I might never get the chance to tell you. And that's what I though the other night when you left here for the beach house, that if something were to happen to you, then you would never know, and that we parted on an argument."

Cheryl opened her eyes and gazed longingly at Steve. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration, or was it sorrow? His eyes were lightly closed as though he was sleeping. She smiled. "I know" she whispered.

Steve peeked through half open lids and searched Cheryls deep brown eyes for the incentive he needed to carry on. He grinned lopsidedly. "I never thought it would take this much time or effort to say three words."

"There's no hurry" she cooed.

"But I need to tell you, I need to be sure that you know" he gasped.

Cheryl stood up, still holding his hand. She gently kissed his fingertips before pressing his palm flat against her chest. Though he had lost all sense of touch, Steve was sure he could _feel_ her heart beating. He closed his eyes again and the rhythm of his breathing slowly fell in time with hers.

"Steve" Cheryl whispered, gently laying his arm down by his side.

"Hmm?" he murmured, in blissful security.

"We are two stubborn headed fools you know"

"I know" he smiled, "and bad tempered too."

"And we'd rather make wise cracks and argue than say what we really feel"

"Guilty as charged"

"But we know each other" she said with confidence and ran a hand down his cheek.

Steve looked up at her. "Do that again" he smiled.

"This?" she asked, allowing a single finger to brush a line from the tip of his chin, along his jaw, and across his cheek to his eyelashes. His expression alone answered her question. Time and again she traced the line across his face and Steve grinned at the exquisite feeling her touch left on his skin.

"Cheryl?" he spoke, sounding almost drunk.

"Uh-hu"

"Will you kiss me?"

Electricity soared through her body as he spoke those words so boldly. She had to remind herself quickly that it was up to her to keep careful control of the situation.

"As you asked so nicely" she breathlessly hissed in his ear, "how could I possibly refuse?"

Steve didn't care that the officer sitting outside could probably hear his moans as Cheryl began kissing his ear. He didn't care that a nurse could walk in at any moment as he felt the warm mouth on his neck. He didn't care that he was completely at the mercy of another human being, he was so utterly absorbed in this magnificent feeling. Cheryl continued to kiss Steve's neck and one thumb gently, soothingly, ran over his cheek. She let her mouth creep back up to his ear where she gently tugged at his lobe as Steve breathed sharply. He so desperately wanted her mouth against his but, just as he was unable to move physically, he found it impossible to coherently direct too. 

He wasn't forced to wait much longer as Cheryl cupped his face in her hands. "Oh god that's good" he rasped before his mouth became enveloped in her hungry kiss. It soon deepened, and Steve could feel himself tensing, straining to lift his head from the pillow. But it was no use, his neck would not comply and so it was left to Cheryl to choreograph proceedings. When their lips parted briefly, he took the chance to tell her what he needed. "Hold me" he urged. Cheryl slipped one hand under his head and the other awkwardly under his shoulder. He was a dead weight as she lifted him just a fraction from the bed, but it was enough for her to wrap her arms around him and cradle him as they continued to feverishly explore each other's mouths.

Suddenly Steve felt as though the bottom had fallen out of the world as he flopped back down onto the mattress. His eyes shot open, his expression a mixture of confusion and hurt. The look on Cheryl's face told him there was something seriously wrong. "What?" he gasped. As Cheryl drew her gun he heard the noise in the corridor for the first time. 

Steve knew the saying about your life flashing before your eyes when faced with death. But in the following thirty seconds he saw the life he may never have. Images of Cheryl and himself, doing normal everyday things. Eating together, reading the morning papers, watching TV and walking on the beach. A million and one snapshots that were yet to be taken, her smile, her frown, her _'who are you trying to kid?'_ expression.

He didn't see her step out into the corridor; from here the door was just out of his scope of view. He heard her scream, then grunt. Two people now, a struggle, all happening so quickly but taking an eternity. And then 'Bang!' Steve's heart stopped. 'Bang! Bang!' two more muffled shots fired and the unmistakable sound of a body slumping to the floor. Steve tried to think, but his world had turned black. Footsteps outside, and voices too. And then something to hold onto, his father's voice calling his name.

"Steve! Steve!" But his heart sank again as the old mans voice echoed once more into the room. "Oh Cheryl! My God no!"

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

I never thought of death like this,

No hand to hold, no goodnight kiss,

No one to talk with as I eat,

No lingering perfume, smelling sweet.

No one to tell my problems to,

No one to give their point of view,

No one to share my hopes and fears,

To laugh with, cry with, no smiles or tears.

No one watch in peaceful sleep,

Or studied concentration, deep.

No one to hold, or love, or touch,

My world was you, you meant that much,

I never knew what I had to miss

I did not know it would be like this.

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"C'mon honey, wake up" Amanda whispered soothingly into Steve's ear as he lay murmuring in obvious distress. "It's another bad dream Steve, just open your eyes, OK." 

Steve wearily complied and as he did so turned his head slightly towards his friend.

"That's an improvement" she smiled but Steve didn't respond.

"Any more news on Peters?" he eventually croaked.

Amanda shook her head, "No change, still in ICU. You know" she continued, "it's possible he may never regain consciousness."

"I know. And in that case we'll never understand why he…." tears welled in Steve's eyes.

"Want to tell me about it?" she asked gently.

Steve groaned. "It's been a week now, but it feels like an eternity. Every time I'm alone in here, when I close my eyes, when I try to sleep it all happens, over and over again. I lie here and listen to them struggle, then I hear the shots and dad's cries from the corridor."

"It'll get better" Amanda smiled squeezing his arm tightly. Steve looked down as he felt the faintest pressure being applied.

"I know it will" he croaked. "I know it's crazy, but just lying here, not being able to switch my brain off, all the awful possibilities go round and round my head." After a long hesitation Steve whispered "When I go to sleep, I see her, I see all the times we'd never spend together." His eyes glistened as two tears waited patiently to be released. "Every time I wake up, I forget, and she's dead again." The tears broke free of their barriers; "I wake up and for the first few seconds I can't tell what's real and what's not, what happened and what I dreamed. Amanda, it's like I lose her every day."

Amanda smiled and clasped his hand firmly. "And then you get her back" she beamed and Steve grinned in response. "After those first few seconds you remember that she's still here, and that she's going to be alright. The nightmares will pass Steve, and you can concentrate on dreaming about all the good times you two will spend together."

"I don't know what to tell her" Steve confessed weakly. Amanda shot him a puzzled look. "When she came in here that night, after she'd shot Peters, she was soaked in blood. Officer Dawson was lying out there with his throat slashed and I couldn't think how to comfort her. Dad was here telling me everything was alright, Cheryl had a stab wound almost identical to Jesse's but she'd be OK, she was just in shock." He rolled his eyes. "I guess I could have been forgiven for claming up, it was all such a blur, a shock for me too. But since then, when she's visited, I haven't known what to say, what to tell her and what to keep to myself."

"Do you love her?" Amanda asked sharply, taking Steve by surprise.

"Do I….do I?" he stuttered "…..well….yes, yes I do."

"Then tell her that and keep nothing to yourself" Amanda told him. "She needs to know how you feel Steve, what you think."

He grinned impishly, "it's funny you should say that, I heard something similar from another beautiful woman not long ago."

"Well she sounds very sensible. And from everything else I know about her she seems like she may just be able to keep you in line, so don't let this one get away, OK?"

"OK" he promised as Amanda lent over and kissed his forehead.

"Just remember" Amanda implored him, "say the important stuff today, while you have the chance, the rest can wait. You'll have plenty of time to talk." She pressed her cheek to his, hugging him as best as she could given his position. The door behind them opened and Cheryl appeared in the doorway.

"Not interrupting?" she laughed timidly.

"Perfect timing" Steve called back "I'm being taken advantage of here" Amanda squeezed his cheeks and kissed him quickly. "Pervert" he exclaimed in exaggerated disgust, "get her off me."

"Must be a hard life" Amanda chirped back, winking at Cheryl as she reached the door, "lying there while all these women throw themselves at you."

"Goodbye Amanda" he replied sternly and she took the hint to leave.

"I'm gonna have to watch you Sloan" Cheryl chided him as the door closed, "now you are starting on the road to recovery you may get ideas above your station."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

Several weeks later Steve and Cheryl found themselves again alone together in the same hospital room. Steve's face was serious as he looked across at his partner. She sat rigidly in the chair by his bed, leaning towards him with a hand rested on his arm. As Steve had begun to regain his strength he had been allowed to sit up again, though he was still helped by a few strategically placed pillows.

The take away cartons were still in their wrappers on the bedside trolley. Tonight Steve had asked if they could leave the food for a while, first, he'd said, he had something important he wanted them to discuss. Inwardly Cheryl was shaking, the awful possibilities of what he may want to tell her racing through her mind.

"This isn't easy for me" Steve eventually whispered "so hear me out, OK?"

Cheryl nodded and her hand absentmindedly stroked his wrist. He couldn't help but smile as he felt the tiny shivers run up his arm.

"I've been thinking. Nobody seems to know how long any of this is going to take," Steve threw a casual glance down towards his feet "and what I decided is," he gulped "well, it's not like we ever _really_ progressed to that other '_we_' we talked about, so I think it would be best for both of us if ...."

Steve stopped mid sentence as Cheryl released his arm and lent back defiantly in her chair. She took the opportunity to clarify his statement so far.

"Never progressed to the other '_we_'?" her eyebrows were raised and her voice was pitched high, not believing what she'd heard. "So what do you call these last weeks, has that been the friends '_we_' or the colleagues '_we_', the stuff we've talked about, the way we've been around each other?"

"Thought you agreed to hear me out"

"Thought you had something serious to say" she retorted

"How do you know I don't?"

Cheryl twisted her mouth as she thought, then looking straight into Steve's eyes invited him; "OK, go on"

He sighed deeply "I'm just not sure that there's any point to this Cheryl, I can't help you when you need it most. And you could be off meeting new people, doing normal stuff, you should be…."

She shook her head "hold it, is that how _shallow_ you think I am? Don't push this onto me, just because you're scared of how you feel, or of what's happened to you, or…."

"What do you gain by visiting me every day when I can't even reach out and touch your hand or take you to dinner?"

Cheryl's face showed anger and frustration now "So you _do_ think I'm that shallow, that all I want from a relationship is fancy dates and a bit of fun. There _is_ a point to this Steve, the point is we're really getting to know each other, or at least I thought we were."

Stalemate. Both had said more than they'd have liked and in a way which didn't help. From almost shouting over the top of each other they now sat in silence. Steve closed his eyes. Cheryl recognised it as his only defence as he still found it a struggle to turn away and couldn't leave the room. Though she wanted to continue this, she knew it was only fair to tread gently. She lent forward again, closer this time. 

"Tell me" she whispered.

There was no response at first, then with eyes still firmly shut Steve asked "tell you what?"

"What it is you really want to say, the real reason you're pushing me away." Cheryl smiled. The past few weeks hadn't been easy. Steve had run hot and cold as he struggled to come to terms with the length of time it would take for him to make any sort of a meaningful recovery. But somehow tonight he seemed more determined in his anger, more pessimistic, and it hurt Cheryl deeply. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Steve, but she wouldn't let him throw their relationship away without a fight. "I'm not buying that crap about not being able to take me out for dinner and dancing, I know you're too cheap for all that stuff anyhow" she told him gruffly, hoping he found her joke amusing. "Tell me what this is about."

"OK, you're right, I'm _scared_."

"Of what?" Cheryl tried not to sound weary, but she felt they'd been down this road before.

Steve sighed heavily as though the answer was obvious. "What use am I to you like this?" Again his eyes scanned down the bed. Scorning he faced her again. "When that psycho was in my room, telling me what he'd done, what he was going to do, I couldn't even warn you. When you used yourself as bait at the beach house I lay awake all night thinking of what might be happening to you. And then when he came back and I heard those shots." Tears welled in Steve's eyes "I was just lying here Cheryl!" 

"You're scared because you can't protect me? I told you before I don't need you to pro…."

"_I'm scared because of the way I feel_." Steve cursed himself time and again for never following Amanda's advice. There had been so many opportunities in the past few weeks to say those three words he needed Cheryl to hear, but he'd always found a way to put it off. He paused and then clarified "Yes I'm sacred by all of this" his eyes opened and again scanned down the bed. "But I'm terrified when I realise how good it feels just having you there beside me" he admitted bashfully, the colour rising in his cheeks.

Cheryl forced back a smile in fear of appearing insensitive or smug. The real reason behind her expression was not only relief, but also because of the fond memories she was focusing on now.

"Do you remember my birthday?" she asked cheerily, and without waiting for a reply continued "after that night you told me something. I said I was frightened when I realised how good it felt having you there beside me. You told me that it wasn't a weakness, nothing to be ashamed of. You said there was a difference between _needing_ somebody and _wanting_ somebody. Did you mean that?"

Steve summonsed the weakest of nods, blinking to emphasise it all he could.

"Do you want me Steve?" Cheryl asked flatly. Seeing his eyes switch emotions she went on; "I'm serious, forget about what you think is best for me, or what you should be able to do for me, I'll look after myself OK. Just tell me, do you want me here, do you like the time we spend together?"

There was no reply.

Cheryl sighed "Do you like the other '_we_'?, because Steve, _there is another 'we'_"

"Yes", barely audible.

"Well so do I" she smiled, "so I don't see what the problem is."

Steve closed his eyes again, and Cheryl waited for him to speak. When he did she had to strain to make out his words. "You deserve so much more." Cheryl shook her head. Though Steve couldn't see it, it seemed he sensed her dismissal of his last statement. "Don't tell me you don't want more" he began, and Cheryl cut him off again

"Yes Steve, yes I _do_ want more, is that what you want to hear? Try this, I want more but what I want, what I _need_, more than anything, is _you_. Steve I want you to be well again so that you can reach out and touch my hand or take me to dinner, I want us to give this a go. It'll happen, you're going to get better"

"But they don't know how long!"

"So it's Chinese take out here for a while longer" she joked, and for a moment the mood of the room changed as they sat smiling broadly at each other.

"What if it's a long while?" Steve asked, the slightest hint of a quiver in his voice.

"Then we'll see if the take-away can give us a discount card." This time Steve didn't laugh.

"What if it's…" he didn't finish the sentence. 

Cheryl waited a moment then prompted him; "what?"

"No, nothing" he insisted, but she wasn't accepting that as an answer.

"Tell me" she demanded.

"What if it's 6 months, or a year, or never?" he spat.

"I'll be here. _I promise_"

"I shouldn't have said that, I don't want to make you feel like I'm pushing for some sort of commitment, so lets say no promises, OK?"

"Why?" she asked, almost out of sheer awkwardness alone.

Steve sighed deeply. "Cheryl, I don't know what I'd do, I mean I'm already so used to seeing you every day, the other '_we_', I don't want you to make any promises..."

"You mean you don't want me to break them" she corrected him.

Steve swallowed hard. "Let me start again OK?"

"If you must" 

"I've got used to having you around, and I like it a lot. When I thought you were…that something bad had happened to you, I felt like the world had fallen in around me." Cheryl couldn't help but notice her heartbeat quicken as Steve sat talking to her like this. But it appeared that Steve was totally unaffected by the romantic notions he was admitting so freely.

"When I dream about what happened to you, and I wake up suddenly, I forget the truth and you die all over again. It may only last a second but I grieve so much for you in that short space of time. We may have something, here and now, but I have a long road ahead of me and it's not one I can expect you to travel with me. There is no way of knowing if '_we_' could really make it, I mean in real life, on a normal day to day basis." His lips showed the hint of a smile and he looked longingly at Cheryl. "I'm very grateful for what we've had, all that you've given me whilst I've been in here, but good things never last. So maybe it's best that we part as friends, finish on a high note so to speak, _sooner rather than later_." He'd run out of euphemisms. Cheryl tried to read the emotions in his face to see if they concurred with his statement or gave his true emotions away. He looked scared, she thought, and upset, but he really did look serious.

"Sooner rather than later" she repeated, a questioning tone in her voice. "Is that because we are _both_ such quitters or because you have such little faith in _me_?"

"I'm serious," he retorted "I just figured it'd be better for us both if you left now. The longer we leave it the worse it'll be".

Cheryl shook her head in disbelief and cupped Steve's face in her hands. "Now I know why you never married, if that's the attitude you take into a relationship. You really think you've got it all worked out huh?

Steve tried to nod as Cheryl began to grin "I got news for you Sloan, you just aren't as smart as you think."

With her hands still clamped tightly to his cheeks she brought her face up until it was almost touching his.

"Come on, I don't want to listen to all this 'Moody Blues' crap all night, you're ruining what should be a perfectly pleasant evening. I expect my date to be charming, funny, and knowledgeable. So leave the mind reading for a while and brush up on the basics, OK?" Steve tried to hide a smile. "If I have doubts I'll tell you, but don't try and second guess me. You're frightened I'm going to leave you? Well if I do it won't be because of your health OK. I know what I need to about your condition, and I know how I feel about you. I'm here because I want to be, not out of friendship or professional courtesy, or pity. I'm here for _you_ Steve Sloan, and hand on heart I've got no plans on going anywhere."

Bringing her lips up to his they kissed, hesitantly at first, and then deeper, a kiss fuelled by needs and wants together. Cheryl let her fingers tangle through his hair, supporting his head as he desperately strained, as he always did, to raise it forward from the pillow.

When they finally parted Steve smiled openly. But as he gazed at Cheryl longer the frown crept across his face again. "Have you ever let anybody break up with you?" he asked, and she couldn't tell if it was a serious question or not. She thought about it.

"Do you _really_ want to break up?" she asked, though she was sure their kiss had just answered the question. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me here anymore. Tell me you don't feel something for me and I'll go."

Steve shook his head weakly. "That's not what I want, but sometimes I just think.."

"Well maybe you shouldn't Sloan. Stick to something you're good at instead."

"I told you before, I'm not much good for anything lying here" he desperately hoped she would follow his train of thought.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she giggled, and lent forward again, letting her lips press against his for the briefest of moments. 

"I'm sorry" he croaked.

"Hey, don't" she whispered softly, her fingers brushing up and down his cheek, attempting to calm him as she saw his Adams apple rise and fall slowly.

Steve gazed deeply into Cheryl's eyes. 

"I _am _sorry. I just thought how much it hurt when I thought I'd lost you then, and when I thought how much harder it would be to lose you later instead…."

"The jury accept a plea of self defence" she smiled. "Now perk up, we've got cold take away to eat." 

"And if I'm not hungry?" he asked mischievously.

"Then we skip dinner"

"And move straight onto the dancing?" he laughed.

"Something like that." 

Cheryl stood, shuffled over to the bed and took a seat next to Steve. She sat up higher than he did, her legs tucked up beside herself and an arm draped around the top of his head. He managed to tilt his head until it was resting warmly on her shoulder. He smiled up at the beautiful face above him, hoping to look suave and seductive as opposed to grinning and desperate. She played with a strand of his hair, twisting it around her fingers as she sunk closer to him.

"On this hot date you have planned for me Sloan" Cheryl breathed into his ear, "do we skip dinner?"

"Quite possibly" he opened his mouth slightly, feverishly anticipating her kiss.

She slid down the bed a little, leaning closer, her lips tantalisingly close to his. "Do we skip dancing?" she rasped.

"Oh god, dancing is definitely out" he stammered, opening his mouth wider, eyes imploring her to act.

"No dinner?" Cheryl paused, pulling back, "no dancing?" She could feel Steve's body shaking as she unfurled her legs and rolled over, laying full stretch on her side. One arm snaked lazily around Steve's waist as the other continued to cradle his head. "What exactly do we do which defines this as a hot date then?"

"Come here and I'll show you" he panted.

They lay together lost in their passionate kiss, Cheryl's arm and legs shifting so slowly and carefully around Steve's inanimate body. They kissed each other, tasted each other and moaned encouragement as their mouth continued to explore and excite each other. When the frustration became unbearable Steve reluctantly moaned for Cheryl to stop.

"You OK?" she whispered quickly, concerned she'd hurt him in some way.

"Good, too good" Steve gasped in reply. His voice was ragged and he fought with each word.

Trying not to smirk Cheryl nodded her understanding and collapsed, as gently as she could, onto Steve's body. The thumping of Steve's heart as she rested her head on his chest compounded the pounding of blood in her ears. From this position Steve could just manage to lightly kiss the top of her head, and he willed his useless body to stop shaking.

"If Arnie heard me breathing like this I'd be on a ventilator" he observed timidly.

They both closed their eyes and lay silently together. When Cheryl thought Steve had dozed off she tilted her face up to his. To her surprise he was still awake, his gaze instantly meeting hers. 

"I hope you aren't thinking again" she teased.

"As a matter of fact, I was"

Cheryl rolled her eyes, "what is it this time?"

"Oh, just three words" he mused.

"Three words huh?" she tried to sound disinterested. "Any particular three words?" she asked, turning away again to hide her embarrassment.

"Y'know I had them, but I forgot them" he claimed unconvincingly. "What were they again? '_Your head's heavy'_?" Cheryl punched him playfully and raised her head from his chest. "No, that wasn't it," he continued. "I know, it was _'you kiss well'._"

"You're a fool Sloan" she giggled.

"That's more than three words," he corrected her "but good try."

Cheryl relaxed again, letting her body mould to Steve's. She loved being this close to him, to feel his heat radiating through their clothes onto her skin. "You don't have to say it" she whispered softly as they lay together in the dark.

"No, I do. I've already regretted not saying it enough times, I don't ever want that to happen again."

Cheryl closed her eyes and wrapped her arms lightly around Steve. Sensing how hard he was struggling with the moment she squeezed him tightly. "Steve" she murmured, "I love you too."

Steve's face blossomed into a smile as he kissed the top of Cheryl's head firmly. "Ah Cheryl" he grinned, "I love you."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*


	17. Postscript

Postscript

"What's going on?" Amanda shrieked as Jesse and Mark stumbled into the doctor's lounge, each with a suitcase in their hands.

"He's been kicked out of the love nest" Jesse cackled.

"That's not true" Mark corrected him sternly as he joined Amanda on the sofa.

"Cheryl was going to leave" Jesse began.

"I think she was a little embarrassed" Mark explained. "All this time she's been stalling, you know, finding reasons to stay at the beach house, waiting for Steve to be released from hospital." He paused "and now that it's happening I think she's worried as to how it may look."

"So if Cheryl wanted to leave how do you end up here with your bags packed?" Amanda asked, totally confused by the situation.

"Well I couldn't let Cheryl leave…." Mark explained

"Not now that Steve is being released…..," Jesse expounded.

"And I thought they could use a little time and space…."

"So we hatched a plan."

Amanda's head switched back and forward as the two doctors explained their ruse. 

"I figured Cheryl wouldn't stay if I was there" Mark continued

"But if Mark were to be called away….."

"Say to a medical conference…."

"Then Steve would be home alone"

"And as he's still shaky on his feet……"

"His doctors were of the opinion……" Jesse grinned triumphantly.

"That somebody should stay with him" Mark concluded with a guilty smile.

"You two are as bad as each other" Amanda reprimanded them. "I'm just pleased you didn't involve me in this little scam."

"Ah well…." Mark smiled sweetly at his young friend.

"Whatever it is, the answer is no!" she told him, getting to her feet.

"It's just I told them the medical conference would be for a week"

"And there's no room for him at my place" Jesse added.

Amanda glared down at Mark. "If I let you stay then you're baby sitting all week."

"Not a problem, I'll cook and clean too." 

"You know CJ has a new story book and nobody to read to now."

"I can do stories" Mark promised as he followed her out of the lounge trailing his cases behind him.

Half way down the corridor Amanda spun around. "You know Joanne McNally quit yesterday" she told an obviously shocked Mark.

"Oh why?" he asked, disappointed at the news.

"Seems she'd only really been hanging around until the trial finished, now I think there are too many bad memories for her here."

Mark sighed as they reached the elevator. "Don't suppose I blame her, it was a terrible thing to happen." The doors opened and they stepped in.

"At least she was the lucky one" Amanda reminded him, "Valerie Shome tossed a coin to the wrong guy and look what happened to her. Genie Anderson tried to show kindness to an old friend who everybody else had turned their back on because of his mental problems."

The doors pinged open. "Katriona Bennet gave a stranger directions, and Emily Waters sorted him out with clothes in the charity shop where she worked" Mark concluded.

"If he hadn't written that in his diary I don't think the police would have figured it out" Amanda admitted.

Mark nodded, "the doll was _wearing_ the clothes, hence it seemed as though there was no trinket." 

"Joanne certainly was a lucky girl" Amanda smiled pensively as they walked out into the car park.

"As was Cheryl, and Jesse was lucky too, those knife wounds could have been a lot worse." Neither of them could put into words just how lucky Steve had been. Lying alone and defenceless as Peters had come to kill him, not once, but twice, it was a miracle that he'd survived without a single scratch.

"Cheryl still feel bad about Officer Dawson's death?" Amanda asked.

Mark shrugged "she's come to terms with it I think. There was nothing she could have done any differently, Peters just became obsessed on getting to her and Steve, and Dawson, sadly, was in the way."

"I'm so glad it's all over" Amanda sighed as she opened the trunk, allowing Mark to dump his cases in.

"Me too" Mark agreed.

"What is it?" Amanda enquired, seeing the look on her friend's face.

"I was just wondering if I'm doing the right thing, leaving Steve alone like this so soon."

"Mark" she reminded him, "he's not _alone_."

"I know but maybe I should just stop by….."

"You just want to be nosy!"

"I do not, I'm just concerned for my son's well being"

"Well you should have thought about that before you went rushing off to a conference then, shouldn't you?" she smirked as they got into the car.

Mark's shoulders slumped "I guess you're right" he shrugged. "Now, Steve tells me Harry Potter is a pretty good read, think CJ would mind a second telling as his bedtime story?"

"Second?" Amanda scoffed, "try fifth or sixth, in fact forget the book he knows it by heart."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

"OK, easy does it" 

Steve felt Cheryls guiding hand on his back as she helped him into his seat. When he was comfortable she moved the walker out of the way and pulled another chair up beside his.

"One hundred and twenty six day's in Community General, eating pig swill and staring at the ceiling. You have no idea how good it feels to be home!" Steve smiled as the sunlight hit his face and his eyes danced over the waves to the horizon.

"Well get used to the view" she warned him, "chances are you'll see as much of that as you did the hospital ceiling."

"I know, but at least there's air out here, and the smell of the sea, and the sun, and the people." He reflected a while; "there's life."

They sat looking at the ocean in silence before Cheryl suddenly remembered "Oh Master's said he'd drop by sometime soon"

"Well there's something for us to look forward to" Steve grimaced.

"He's pretty hacked off about the ruling." She waited to gauge Steve's reaction, but he seemed unfazed by her mention of the case.

"It's the old saying" he replied, "We've go the law in this life, and justice in the next. I'll never understand what he did, but I'll accept that it was beyond his control, an illness." He turned to Cheryl "chances are Peters will never wake from that coma. But if, by some miracle he does, he'll spend the rest of his life in hospitals of one sort or another. Masters has got a bee in his bonnet about getting this guy slammed in prison if he can't get the death penalty. With Diminished responsibility that's never going to happen. I guess Masters maybe never thought that the prison Peters was in before, locked in a deranged mind, or the one he's in now may be a million times worse than anything built of concrete and steel."

Cheryl was amazed at how calmly Steve spoke. His sentiments were ones she herself had toyed with, concluding, just as Steve had, that Peters would never have freedom, whatever happened to him now. She thought of him lying there in hospital, unable to move, and then she looked at Steve, smiling to herself as she watched him reach stiffly across the table towards the sheet of paper. 

Cheryl stretched out and picked it up, passing it to Steve. Though most of the feeling had returned to his hands, his fingers were still a little clumsy. He placed the sheet quickly onto his lap before he had a chance to drop it.

"It's some notes and a schedule your dad left" Cheryl explained.

"House rules you mean" Steve's eyes scanned down the document. "Physiotherapy, aqua-therapy, occupational therapy, sessions with Dr Keller, relaxation and visualisation suggestions, _additional exercises recommended or allowable_, and a list of '_don'ts_' as long as my arm." Steve grinned as he imagined his father studiously compiling the list, then reaching the last item he beamed. Cheryl nodded as he looked quizzically at her.

"I think Jesse added the last one" she said sheepishly.

"Aromatherapy massage and a list of suitable oils" Steve cast Cheryl a daring grin.

"I wonder how the medical conference is going?" Cheryl asked, neatly changing the subject. She wondered if Steve had reached the same conclusion as she had about his father's last minute plans. In her mind there was no way Mark would leave town for a week with Steve just out of hospital.

"Oh I wonder" he grinned back. "He's probably sleeping in the doctors lounge or crashing with Amanda or Jess."

"I feel terrible, driving him out of his own home."

"Well don't" Steve told her, "the way those three connive and manipulate, they deserve each other."

"And how about us?" 

"Oh" he conceded, "we deserve each other too."

Cheryl picked the sheet from Steve's lap and cast her eye down it. "Busy schedule you've got here Sloan"

"Hey, it's tough taking it easy you know" he grinned.

"I'm just wondering when we're going to find time in the week for this hot date you promised me." She shuffled to the edge of her chair and Steve's eyes instinctively scanned down her body.

"Is that the date where we skip dinner and dancing?" he leant towards Cheryl, his eyes now fixed on her lips.

"That's the one" she nodded slowly extending her arms and snaking them around his neck.

"In that case" he reached for her hips, tugging her from the chair and spinning her around on her heels. Cheryl landed softly in his lap as he pulled her gently to his body. He continued "we'd better not waste too much time." 

Together they sat as the waves rolled in, embracing warmly in the afternoon sun. Steve's strong hands ran up and down Cheryl's beautiful long legs. He soon found himself scattering kisses across her collarbone and up her neck. Cheryl giggled and squirmed slightly as his fingers found a tiny gap between her trousers and top, his fingertips shyly stroking the tiny patch of naked skin. But as Cheryl swivelled around further holding his head to her neck, Steve's shyness receded. Cheryl shuddered at the warmth and roughness of Steve's hand as it slid up her bare back, resting firmly between her shoulder blades.

Tugging at his hair Cheryl gently pulled Steve's head back from her neck so that she could see his face. Her smooth hand cupped his jaw firmly. "Do you think this hot date might be considered an _additional exercise?_" she leered.

"Depends how hard you plan to make me work" he replied, revelling in the knowledge that at last they were truly alone together. *This time* he thought to himself *this time I won't be asking her to stop. This time I know I can wake up sleeping in her arms again.* He gazed at her sensuous full lips and Cheryl released her clutch on his hair, allowing him to drift again towards her. Somehow he halted himself just before his mouth reached hers. 

"But if we need more time" he whispered, "I'm sure Jesse can find another conference for dad."

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-* The End *-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*

The lyrics quoted in Chapter 2 are from the song "**Wake Up Sleeping**" written by Leo Moran & Davy Carton and performed by The Saw Doctors. The song can be found on the bands album "All The Way From Tuam".

"**Baby Can I Hold You**" is quoted in full in Chapter 7. The song was written and performed by Tracy Chapman. The song can be found on the album "Tracy Chapman".

The poem in Chapter 14, "**I never thought of death like this**" is a little harder for me to credit. I read it or heard it many years ago but only the first two lines stuck and I couldn't track it down. So this is my 'version'; if you wrote it or own it my apologies to you for playing with your beautiful work.

Finally, thanks for reading this far, I know it was a bit of a hike. It was one of those stories that just ran away with itself and took me a long time to tame. Can I just say that I will never again put a lead character in the position where he can only talk and wink, it was frustrating beyond belief! Hope you enjoyed it, please R&R. 

Castaway Jane.


End file.
